The Green Gateway
by KittandChips
Summary: After returning from the edge of the world, Caspian is in low spirits, much to the concern of Drinian. Then a stranger arrives at Cair Paravel, bringing a device that will allow Caspian to visit the one place he's always longed to go.
1. Narnian Paparazzi

**Summary**: After returning from the edge of the world on the _Dawn Treader_, Caspian is in low spirits, much to the concern of his friends, Drinian, Trumpkin and Trufflehunter. Then a stranger arrives at Cair Paravel, bringing a device that will allow Caspian to visit the one place he's always longed to go.

**Author Notes**:  
- In the Chronicles, Caspian doesn't get a chance to see 'the other world' until the end of The Silver Chair, so this story is an alternate universe.  
- Ramandu's daughter, who appears briefly in this story, has no canon name so I called her Rilami here. I saw her called 'Ramanda' in another fic which I also thought was a good idea for her name.  
- I've done my best to remain true to the portrayal of Aslan in the books, however I don't feel comfortable writing Aslan as an other-worldly manifestation of Jesus (because I don't think I could do it justice), so I've pretty much ignored that aspect of his character. Hopefully he still has passing resemblance to the book incarnation.

**Completed: **February 2006

**Modified:** 25 March 2008

**Dedication**: Dedicated to all the Drinian fans out there.

* * *

_"Do you mean to say," asked Caspian, "that you three come from a round world (round like a ball) and you've never told me! It's really too bad of you. Because we have fairy-tales in which there are round worlds and I always loved them. I never believed there were any real ones. But I've always wished there were and I've always longed to live in one. Oh, I'd give anything - I wonder why you can get into our world and we never get into yours? If only I had the chance! It must be exciting to live on a thing like a ball. Have you ever been to the parts where people walk about upside-down?"_  
- C. S. Lewis, _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Narnian Paparazzi**

* * *

It was a paradisiacal late spring evening at Cair Paravel, but not entirely due to the random whims of nature, as a normal observer would assume. The gentle, musical cries of seagulls were deliberately pitched at tones to blend in harmoniously with the breaking of waves. The pink blossoms floating delicately on the breeze were carefully designed to give the air a faint scent and visually pleasing edge, yet not be overpowering. The branches of the trees waved gently in time to the distant waves, giving the appearance of life without being obtrusive.

This deliberate performance was lost on the young couple who walked through the gardens of the castle, but not so on the pair who stood beside the window in one of the higher towers. One was so short he had to stand on his toes to get a good view, while the other had to crouch down to avoid being seen.

"Look there!" Trumpkin said, gesturing as a pair of indigo butterflies danced through the scene. "If this doesn't give Caspian the courage to propose, nothing will! I've a good mind to propose to something myself."

"Don't look at me, my lord," Drinian said, smiling. "But I do agree, it is going perfectly." He made a quick gesture to something out the window, and within a minute, a blackbird landed on the sill.

"A request, my lord?" the bird enquired.

"Yes, Trillitook. Tell everyone to quiet down a little. We can't hear what they're saying, and I think we're nearing a breakthrough."

The bird nodded in acknowledgement, and then flew off into the garden. A moment later, the birdsong all but disappeared.

Trumpkin and Drinian leaned further out the window, now picking up Caspian's voice. Rilami laughed in response to the remark, and they shared a smile. Even if nothing came of this, Drinian felt the preparation had all been worth it just to see them getting on so well. Despite their obvious mutual attraction, there had been more than one argument on the voyage home from the eastern edges of the world. Both of them were extraordinarily naïve and inexperienced in matters of the heart. But Rilami, at least, had some excuse. She had been living in near isolation for many years. Caspian had simply found adventuring more interesting than courting.

The butterflies made another pass around them, and Rilami pointed with delight.

"Oh, look, Caspian! Are they tiny birds? What beautiful wings."

"They're butterflies," Caspian said. "A type of insect."

There was something in Caspian's voice that raised a warning flag in Drinian's mind. He gestured out the window again, but Trillitook had disappeared. Hopefully the butterflies would take the hint and gracefully depart.

"Butterflies," Rilami repeated. "A curious name. Do they like to eat butter?"

"Perhaps they used to mix them in with butter," Caspian replied, with a grin. "To give it some crunch."

Rilami looked vaguely disgusted.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Trumpkin whispered, glancing at Drinian.

"I believe I heard you make the same joke during the First Blossom Festival, my lord," Drinian replied.

"But not in the presence of a lady!" Trumpkin hoisted himself up higher. "Come on, Sire," he said to himself, as if urging on a competitor in the annual cheetah races.

"They're retreating further into the trees," Drinian whispered. "Curse it! We will not be able to hear."

"We need Trufflehunter," Trumpkin agreed.

"Need me for what?" came a voice behind them, with the tone of someone catching them in a misdeed. "For spying on his royal highness?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down," Drinian said.

"Why, of all the -"

"Do you want to see them engaged or not?"

Trufflehunter opened his mouth as if to continue arguing, but then silently joined them at the window. "Oh by the Lion's Mane," he said, once he had taken a glimpse. "What is going on out there? You expect the poor boy to propose when you have half of Narnia looking on?"

"Don't look at me," Trumpkin said. "This was mostly Drinian's idea. Apparently humans find this kind of atmosphere romantic."

"You were the one who suggested the blossoms, my good dwarf," Drinian said. "And the butterflies, for that matter."

"Shhh," Trufflehunter said, pointing with his paw. "They're coming this way."

Indeed, the couple had emerged from the trees, and were now walking across the lawn towards the palace. Halfway, Caspian stopped, and Rilami turned to him. She reached out to hold his hands, and their eyes met across a blossom-laden breeze.

For a moment, there was no sound. Drinian could have sworn even the badger was holding his breath. But then, Rilami suddenly let go of Caspian and pointed across the grass, towards an innocent looking bush.

"Oh, Caspian, look!"

Caspian turned, just as two fluffy white rabbits hastily jumped out of sight.

"Oh, please come back!" Rilami said, running over to where they had last been seen.

The two rabbits slowly re-emerged, looking about as apologetic as rabbits could look. They shuffled their little pink noses up and down, and twitched their whiskers. Rilami, who had clearly never seen a rabbit before, clasped her hands together in pleasure. "How _adorable_!"

Caspian strode up, folding his arms.

"Excuse me," he said, firmly. "This just happens to be the _private_ garden of the King of Narnia! Mind your own business!"

The rabbits bowed their heads, and hopped away around the side of the palace.

"Caspian!" Rilami said, annoyed. "You could have at least introduced us!"

"They were spying on us!" Caspian protested.

Drinian and Trumpkin shared a nervous look.

"You didn't have to be so rude!"

"I was more than polite under the circumstances!"

Drinian frowned.

"Well, there goes the proposal," Trumpkin said.

But in a moment, the proposal was the last thing they were worried about. Caspian just happened to look up at the right moment, and caught sight of all three of them, staring at him out the window. They hastily drew back, but the damage was done.

"And you call yourselves my friends!" he yelled in their direction.

"Back to the throne room, comrades," Trumpkin said.

"I agree," Trufflehunter said.

But Caspian hadn't finished. He strode into the middle of the lawn, folded his arms, and addressed the trees.

"Fellow Narnians, I ask you to listen! I wish to issue a new decree! Any creature, whether man, dwarf, beast or tree, caught spying on our royal person will spend a week in the dungeon!"

At once, there was a flurry of activity, followed by a rush of a sound like a giant wave. Hundreds of birds and insects poured out of the trees, rushing into the forests beyond the castle walls. The lawn became a blur of movement as creatures hopped and scurried out of the bushes, making their way to the palace gates. Finally, one of the bulgy bears lumbered out of the trees, insisting he was only there because he was looking for honey.

"How would one put a tree in a dungeon, I wonder?" Trumpkin asked.

Drinian and Trufflehunter both burst into snickers of laughter, but their mirth dissolved when they heard a most decidedly angry female voice.

"Caspian!"

* * *

"Well, I hope you're all happy, my dear lords!" Caspian said, storming into the throne room.

Trumpkin and Drinian looked up from their game of chess, doing their best to look innocent.

"Your highness," Trufflehunter said, jumping down off a chair and bowing. "My most humble apologies. I behaved despicably."

Caspian flopped down onto the nearest of the four thrones and sighed wearily. "It's all right, Trufflehunter. I know this wasn't your idea." He cast a pointed glance in Trumpkin and Drinian's direction.

"Where is the Lady Rilami, Sire?" Drinian asked.

"She's gone."

"Gone?" Trumpkin repeated.

"Gone."

"For good?" Trufflehunter said, his ears flattening in surprise.

"No ... not for good. At least, that's what she says. She made friends with Constel the unicorn and Jooner the faun last week, and she's gone with them to meet up with Master Cornelius along the southern border. He's completing a census in those parts, and she says helping him will be a wonderful opportunity to meet all the Narnian creatures ... after I scared them away."

"Don't despair, Sire," Trufflehunter said, resting a paw on his arm. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Caspian made a grunt-like noise, and turned his head away.

"The badger's right, Sire," Drinian said. "And by the time she returns, I will have made it the priority of every creature in this court to provide you with complete and utter privacy."

"Privacy is a foreign concept in this country," Caspian said. "No one has anything better to do than gossip about the romantic lives of the royalty. Maybe we need another war."

His friends all stared in shock.

"I wasn't serious!" Caspian protested.

"And I trust his majesty was also speaking in jest when he mentioned dungeons," Trumpkin said.

"Cair Paravel doesn't even have a dungeon," Caspian said, rolling his eyes. He paused for a moment, and then said, "Maybe we should build one. I have nothing else to do until she returns, after all."

"Nonsense, Sire," Trufflehunter said. "There is plenty to do. For example - making copies of your maps of the Eastern Ocean."

"We did that two weeks ago."

"Writing to Lord Bern, Duke of the Lone Islands," Drinian suggested.

"I did that yesterday."

"Maybe you and Lord Drinian could write a book," Trumpkin suggested, waving a knight piece in the air. "About all your adventures on the _Dawn Treader_."

"About how we turned back and left others to see the end of the world," Caspian said, in a frosty tone.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Caspian stood up, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry, friends. I'm tired ... and upset over Rilami. And ... and I miss Reep. But it is no excuse for my poor behavior. I will retire early, I think."

"Goodnight, Sire," Trufflehunter said. "Don't lose heart. She will return."

"Goodnight, Trufflehunter. Goodnight Lord Drinian, Lord Trumpkin. Drinian - don't look so concerned."

He gave Drinian a cheerful smile as he left, and it was returned. But if he stayed a moment longer, he'd have seen the smile disappear from Drinian's face.

* * *


	2. An Unexpected Guest

* * *

**Chapter 2: An Unexpected Guest**

* * *

The weeks that followed did little to alleviate Drinian's concerns. He'd suspected that Caspian had not yet recovered from the events at the edge of the Eastern Sea, but the fact had never shown itself so visibly before. Rilami had provided a distraction that had masked his feelings, but now that she was gone, it was more than obvious. At least, to him it was. Trufflehunter, Trumpkin, and indeed, the rest of the court, imagined Caspian's melancholy was due solely to Rilami's absence.

But they did not know the full story of the _Dawn Treader's_ final hours at the eastern edge.

Drinian did his best to help. He suggested to Caspian that they take some horses and ride out to visit the marshwiggles on the northern border. Trillitook had given him the idea, when he said marshwiggles were excellent company for people in low spirits. Besides, Caspian always loved to gallop across the plains on his well-loved horse, Destrier. But the King had said it was too hot for riding, and it looked like rain, besides. Drinian considered arguing, pointing out that it was a cooler-than-average day, and there wasn't a rain cloud in sight, but arguing with one's king wasn't the best way to cheer him up.

Trumpkin, knowing how much Caspian enjoyed a good swordfight, asked the king to humor him with a duel, over in the jousting arena. Caspian obliged, and their hopes were momentarily raised. But as soon as they began, it became clear his heart was not in it. His reflexes were so lax, Trumpkin even managed to wound the King's wrist, much to the dwarf's distress. Drinian suspected Caspian had allowed it to happen, merely to have an excuse to stop.

Events took a turn for the worse when Trufflehunter, in a bid to lift Caspian's mood, invited the talking mice to a grand feast at Cair Paravel. It all went well, until the conversation turned, predictably, to Reepicheep. The mice pressed them for the story of the last time they'd seen their hero, even though they'd heard it many times before. Drinian, obliging, struck up the tale. Caspian stared fixedly into his wine glass. As the story passed the lighter moments, of Reepicheep's unorthodox way of testing whether the waves were in fact sweet, Caspian began to shuffle in his seat like he had just remembered a vital appointment. Drinian did his best to cut the story short, but the mice were interrupting every second word. Finally, Caspian stood and left, without so much as excusing himself. The mice quickly fell silent.

"Forgive his majesty," Drinian said, hastily. "He misses Reepicheep dearly."

"Aye, as do I," Peepiceek said. "But I also rejoice ... for I know, wherever our fearless leader is, he is following his heart's desire. Here - " Peepiceek produced a small rapier. "Tis Reepicheep's second best sword. I intended to gift it to his majesty after the feast."

"He will be overjoyed," Trufflehunter said. "And tell me ... what other treasures has Reepicheep left behind?"

The mice eagerly chattered on about the many uses they'd found for Reepicheep's burrow - it had become a sort of shrine to all his great deeds. As soon as Drinian found he was no longer needed for the conversation, he quietly excused himself and slipped away. The others imagined he had gone to ensure all was well with Caspian. He would have done so, if he had possessed any idea what words could possibly comfort the troubled king.

Instead, he headed for the beach, as he often did in the evenings. Without some deep breaths of the salty sea air, he could never sleep the whole night through, and he needed the time alone with the ocean. His footprints from yesterday's walk had not completely washed away. He walked a few steps, idly placing his boots into the old depressions. When he was far enough away, he turned to look back at the castle. It was always a beautiful sight, with the sun setting behind it, and the Narnian flags flapping proudly in the coastal wind.

Drinian stared at the waving golden and red lions, and then found his gaze shifting back to the eastern horizon. The waves were rough and the sky near the ocean was unusually dark. There must be a storm brewing, somewhere out there. He said a silent prayer for any ships unfortunate enough to encounter it. And quickly, his prayer also turned to more personal concerns. To Caspian, to the court, and to the continued prosperity of Narnia itself.

"Wishing you were back at the helm of the _Dawn Treader_, my lord?"

Drinian started, and turned to find himself looking at the stark black and white face of the badger. He smiled.

"Not likely, Trufflehunter." He pointed to the horizon. "There's a storm out there."

"Ah. To be truthful, I've never understood you humans' fascination with the ocean."

"Tis an unnatural oddity," Drinian agreed, looking wistful.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment. Trufflehunter began to nosy around in the sand, perhaps seeking a post-dinner snack.

"I am worried about his highness," Drinian said, finally.

"Do not be concerned. Trumpkin has gone to talk some sense into him."

"That sounds like the blind leading the blind," Drinian laughed.

Trufflehunter rose up on his hind legs and gave him a wide, toothy grin. "At any rate, he will cheer him up."

"We can only hope," Drinian said, more seriously. Privately, he wished Reepicheep were here. No one could talk sense into Caspian like the mouse.

A gust of wind rushed through his hair, and the badger dropped down on all fours. His coat began to stand on end.

"That storm you mentioned may find its way here, my lord. We should return."

"Aye," Drinian agreed.

They began to walk back towards Cair Paravel, with Drinian walking slowly to allow the badger to keep pace. His thoughts turned to his unfinished prayer, and he idly sent one last thought to the eastern end of the world. _And by your grace, please reveal to Caspian that he did not turn from adventure, but has instead embraced a greater one ..._

"Do you smell something?" Trufflehunter asked, raising his nose to the air.

Drinian glanced over his shoulder. The beach was deserted, just as they had left it. "Like what, my friend?"

"Perhaps it was nothing."

They were about to walk on, but Drinian felt compelled to look once again. And then, by luck or by some divine guidance, he happened to see a piece of splintered wood, sticking out from behind a distant rock. That hadn't been there yesterday ...

He began to run back down the beach, and Trufflehunter scampered behind him, now following his nose like a dog. As soon as they came within sight of the rocks, Drinian began to sprint. There was no mistaking it now. It was a washed up lifeboat.

"I smell human," Trufflehunter said, panting for breath.

The tide was coming in, and the water was nearly ankle deep around the rocks. Trufflehunter climbed up to avoid getting wet, but Drinian waded around. The boat was turned on its side, with the bottom facing out to sea. It was embedded firmly into the sand.

"Drinian!" Trufflehunter called. "A man!"

And indeed there was. Around thirty, and dressed in a dark purple tunic and leggings, of a fashion Drinian did not recognize. Unconscious, but he was still breathing. His head and torso were sheltered from the water within the boat, but another half-hour and he surely would have drowned.

As Drinian began to drag the man out of the wreckage, Trufflehunter climbed back down to the fast-vanishing strip of dry sand.

"I will run ahead and call the palace physician."

"And please send someone to fetch his belongings," Drinian said, gesturing at the large sack, nestled further into the boat. "They might provide us with some clue as to who this man is."

* * *

Within an hour, their unexpected guest was awake, but unable to give a proper account of whatever tragedy had befallen him. The physician, a faun by the name of Gilamaud, said he was best left to rest. He guessed he hadn't eaten anything in at least a week, judging by his haggard appearance.

They debated whether or not to go through his belongings, or whether it was politer to wait until the man himself could tell them who he was. But Trumpkin insisted it was necessary, as he could be a spy or an enemy.

And so they sat in a circle, with the sack lying open on the table before them. Each of them reached into the sack in turns, pulling out random objects.

"Ah ha," Trumpkin said, pulling out a long leather sleeve, with a glinting handle sticking out the top. "A sword!"

"We all carry swords, Trumpkin," Caspian said. "And here we have some clothes." He felt the fabric between his fingers. "We don't have cloth like this in Narnia. Or anywhere else I've been, for that matter."

"Check the pockets," Trumpkin said, immediately.

"A telescope," Drinian said, placing the device carefully on the table. "Perhaps he is the sole survivor of some great voyage of exploration."

"A book," Trufflehunter said, dragging the heavy volume out with both paws. "But the title is in no language I recognize."

He showed it to the others, who agreed it must have come from very far away.

"And what is this?" Trumpkin said, pulling out an odd-looking device. It was made of metal and glass, with symbols carved into the side. It had a flat bottom, but curved up into a point, like a pine cone.

Caspian fingered it. "You don't think ... you don't think this man is from that other place, do you? The place that our other-worldly friends come from?"

They all stared at each other, both curious and hopeful.

"Perhaps he is a friend of theirs," Caspian said, excited. "How wonderful. We must prepare a great feast for him when he is well enough for company."

"Their highnesses never came dressed like this, Sire," Drinian said, running his hands over the fabric.

"Well, I'm sure they have more than one type of fashion over there," Caspian said. "How many do we have here?"

"Maybe he's been here for a while," Trumpkin said. "Maybe he ended up in the wrong place and has been looking for Narnia. That would explain why he's dressed oddly."

"Maybe this device -" Caspian pointed at the odd contraption. "Is a piece of technology from the other world. Like that torch thing of Edmund's that he left behind."

"The torch had an obvious purpose," Trumpkin said. "A portable light. The Lion only knows what this device is for."

"We shall soon find out," Caspian said. "I can't wait! If only Rilami were still here ..."

His smile faded for a moment, but then he brightened up.

"It has reached a late hour, my friends. We should retire. By the morning, I'm sure our guest will be rested enough to treat us with his heroic tale."

"Aye, Sire," Drinian said. But he reached out to finger the odd contraption, running his hands over the metal protrusions at the base of it. Then there was an odd click, and Drinian drew his arm back quickly. The device began humming, and bright green light shone from within. It was brightest at a point above the device, where the light beams criss-crossed into a triangular field.

"A portable light, you said, my lord?" Drinian said to Trumpkin.

"By the Lion, he must be a wizard!" Trumpkin said, his eyes going wide at the sight.

"Or a treasure hunter," Drinian suggested.

"Or a thief," Trufflehunter said, folding his paws.

* * *


	3. Soreus

* * *

**Chapter 3: Soreus**

* * *

They all rose early the next morning. Caspian immediately summoned Gilamaud, and enquired as to the health of their guest. After a good night's rest, it seemed he was now well enough to join them in the great hall for breakfast.

Numerous citizens attended, as word about the unusual visitor had already spread throughout the surrounding regions. They thought it only polite to wait until after the meal to question him, although they were deeply curious. But the man ate too rapidly to talk between bites anyway. Once he finally appeared full, and stood up from his chair, and everyone eagerly fell silent.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing low. "Friends. My name is Soreus. I was born in a land far, far to the west. When I came of age, I left my home and sought adventures in this great wide world. Since then, I have visited many strange and wonderful lands. I have dined with beings too numerous to count. I have had enough adventures to fill an entire series of books. But I have never, in all my travels, encountered such generous hospitality as I have here. You saved my life without knowing so much as my name. All I've seen of your country is the view from my infirmary bed, but I can already see this is a glorious place."

"Well, I can see I was wrong about him!" Trumpkin whispered.

"He probably says that to every country," Trufflehunter replied. The expression on his face was the closest a badger could get to a frown.

"I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting my rescuers," Soreus continued. "Please, let me have the honour of knowing their names and thanking them personally. Are they present?"

Trumpkin held up Trufflehunter's paw and said loudly, "Here's one!"

Everyone turned to stare, and Trufflehunter pulled his paw back. "I'm afraid the good dwarf has me confused with Lord Drinian," Trufflehunter said, hastily jabbing a paw across the table, where Drinian sat.

"Nay," Drinian said. "It was Trufflehunter's keen sense of smell that first alerted us to your plight, Soreus. Truly, we are in the presence of a heroic badger."

"Indeed," Caspian said, smiling. "May I propose a royal toast -" he raised his glass, "- to Sir Trufflehunter, a truly heroic knight."

As everyone drunk to Trufflehunter, Soreus walked down the table and grabbed the badger in a full embrace. "My savior," he said. "I am forever in your debt. You saved my life."

"Your thanks is unnecessary, but warmly received," Trufflehunter said, reversing out of the embrace. "I assure you, Lord Drinian did most of the work. But pray tell us - how did you come to be in the situation we found you?"

"I spent last winter with the Mina creatures on an island in the far north. In the spring, I joined them on an exploration voyage. Two weeks in, we were boarded and attacked by pirates. My friends were all killed in the fight, but they took me alive ... I discovered later that they had mistaken me for the royal prince of a distant land in the north. Then the pirate's ship was attacked by a sea serpent. It wrapped its loathsome coils around the boat and then crushed it to pieces. It was only by sheer luck that I discovered a lifeboat. From there, I drifted on the ocean, never knowing if I would live or die. I must have fallen unconscious from lack of water, for the next thing I knew, I awoke in this wondrous castle."

"I believe we encountered the same serpent on our voyage to the eastern edge of the world," Drinian said. "So it finally came by a meal then? And of pirates!"

The table burst into laughter, with many comments that they undoubtedly made the poor creature drunk from the taste of rum.

"A voyage to the eastern edge!" Soreus said, returning to his seat. "I can see I am in the company of kindred adventurous spirits."

"Only when duty requires us to be," Drinian said, sharing a glance with Caspian.

"Aye, Lord Drinian," Caspian agreed. "Soreus, we will look forward to hearing your tales of adventure unhindered by duty. You are welcome to stay here as a royal guest, until you feel the call of adventure again."

"Which shouldn't be long, by the look of him," Trumpkin mumbled.

"I hope you are proven right," Trufflehunter said, quietly.

* * *

Over the following weeks, the halls of the castle often rang with laughter, and many creatures stopped by to listen to the grand tales of exploration. Soreus was truly a pleasure to have around. He was quick of wit, and had an almost boyish energy about him. His blue eyes shone with memories of his great travels.

In Drinian's opinion, perhaps the best thing about him was the affect he had on Caspian. No more was the King moping about the palace, seeing to his royal duties like he was a slave to the cruel master named duty. As they quickly discovered, the longer Soreus stayed, the more fantastic and elaborate the stories of his adventures would become. So all those in the court who enjoyed a good tale, went out of their way to keep Soreus entertained. And no one enjoyed a good story of adventure more than Caspian.

So, once again, the grounds of Cair Paravel played host to many friendly tournaments, of sword-fighting, jousting and archery. This time, Caspian participated to the best of his ability, and found Soreus to be a worthy opponent. He claimed to have been taught by noble sportsmen the world over, and shared many tales of great contests that had lasted for years before a winner was declared. As eager as their guest was to tell a story, he was also curious about their own adventures. One afternoon, Caspian gave him a personal tour of their private _Dawn Treader_ museum, within the lower rooms of the palace.

"Even if he isn't from the other place," Drinian said, watching the two of them walk in the gallery down below, "I swear that Soreus was sent by the Lion himself. This is the first time I've seen his highness be enthusiastic when showing a guest those wonderful maps that Coriakin made for us."

"I don't trust him," Trufflehunter replied.

"What's not to trust, my friend?"

"Do we really know who he is? Perhaps he is a spy. Perhaps his whole washed up shipwreck act was an elaborate trap, designed to put us off our guard."

"Since when have you been so suspicious?" Drinian said, surprised. "This isn't like you."

"Since I know that something isn't quite right. Badgers have a sense for this kind of thing. Besides, if he was really taken captive by pirates, why did they not steal all his belongings? And how did he manage to make it to a lifeboat when he was supposedly their prisoner ... and with all his belongings in a water-tight sack!"

"Have you shared these concerns with his majesty?"

Trufflehunter shook his head, looking down. "I, too, can see that his highness is much happier than he was."

"Soreus is what he might have been if he wasn't a king," Drinian observed. _And perhaps what he now wants to be_. He didn't say this aloud, as Trufflehunter wouldn't stand to hear one word against Caspian's loyalties. Even when it was a spoken by a friend. "Perhaps it is time for this Soreus to leave," Drinian said, after thinking about it further.

"Are you suggesting we drop some subtle hints?"

"Yes," Drinian said. "I will tell him there's much adventuring to be had in Archenland at this time of year."

As it turned out, no hints were needed, subtle or otherwise. At the feast that evening, he stood up after the first course, with a serious expression on his face.

"Friends," he said. "The time I have spent here has been like a fantastic dream. But the night has come for me to depart. The friendship and camaraderie I have experienced here has left me homesick for my own kin, and I desire to head west."

His words were followed by sad whinnies and quiet mumblings from all those courtiers who enjoyed his stories.

"We will miss you, friend," Caspian said. "You will always be welcome at Cair Paravel."

"A toast," Trufflehunter suggested, suddenly in bright spirits.

They all drunk to Soreus, and then the meal continued. Afterwards, there was a long line of creatures who wished to say goodbye to Soreus personally, and he was treated to a hug from one of the bulgy bears, something that he would undoubtedly never forget. It was almost dark by the time he finished packing up the horse Caspian had given him, but he insisted he didn't mind travelling by night. Caspian and Trumpkin saw him off at the western gate of Cair Paravel.

"Once again," Soreus said, mounting the horse, "my eternal gratitude for your hospitality. And Sir Trufflehunter -" he bowed to the badger, "My life is forever in your debt."

Trufflehunter smiled, but it appeared a little forced, to those who knew him well. "Only happy to be of service. But it really was Lord Drinian who -"

"Fair weather, friend," Drinian interrupted. "And happy travelling."

"Yes," Caspian said. "Remember, if you are ever passing this way again, do not hesitate to visit."

Soreus bowed once again, and then galloped off into the twilight. They watched until he disappeared into the forest, and then turned back to the palace.

"Now, no more forced politeness, eh Tufflehunter?" Trumpkin said, chuckling.

"Forced politeness?" Caspian said, surprised. Trumpkin had forgotten that Caspian did not know of Trufflehunter's concerns. "You did not like our guest, Trufflehunter?"

"He was friendly enough," Trufflehunter said, carefully. "But perhaps too charming. I sometimes wondered if all his stories were strictly factual."

"Oh, they were more than likely entirely made up," Caspian said. "He was probably an ex-pirate himself. But he told the stories so wonderfully."

"I don't understand the need to make up stories," Trufflehunter said. "The real ones are so much better."

"The real stories are so strange, no one believes they're real," Trumpkin said. "I think everything Soreus told us was the truth."

"This from someone who used to think the golden age of Narnia was mythology," Caspian said, with a grin.

"Aye, and I certainly had that rubbed in my beard often enough. So now I believe everything. Better to be gullible than find yourself eating breakfast with a high king you thought was a made up tale."

"True enough," Caspian said. "But there were certain contradictions in Soreus' tales that made me doubt them - not just the fact that they were fantastic. Still, perhaps one day we shall find ourselves reduced to mythology. The historians will say, 'yes, there was a king named Caspian. But he didn't sail to the ocean of lilies. Only to the Lone Islands'."

"Aye," Drinian said. "And they will say, 'how could he have sailed further, when his captain was a mouse named Reepicheep?'."

Everyone laughed as they entered the great hall, and the leopard guards stared at them in surprise, clearly wondering what was so funny.

"Back to work, tomorrow," Caspian said, turning to make his way up a tower staircase. "No more idling away the days. I think I might write to Rilami and Master Cornelius in the morning. Then perhaps ride north in the afternoon."

Drinian nodded. "I must visit the harbour and see how the ship building is progressing. Rhince has been urging me to come for weeks now."

"I should join you," Caspian said. "I promised Lord Bern we'd have another ship protecting the Lone Islands before next summer. I'd love to give him a whole fleet, but one sail at a time, like you say."

"Like I say," Drinian agreed, cheerfully. It was a blessing to see Caspian so interested. The King had barely spoken of their maritime plans since the return of the _Dawn Treader_.

"Tomorrow then," Caspian said, "Goodnight, my lords."

* * *


	4. A Gift

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Gift**

* * *

The next morning, the King was not present for breakfast. A leopard delivered his apologies, saying he'd been delayed with some important business. They were all burning with curiosity to know what this business was, but when Caspian finally appeared (around mid-morning), he only made some idle comments about what a fine day it was.

"Are we still going to the harbour, Sire?" Drinian prompted.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Caspian said, looking out the window. No further explanation was offered.

They didn't see him again until the midday meal. By this point, they'd been speculating wildly as to the nature of the important business. Trufflehunter was worried that Caspian might be ill, but Drinian and Trumpkin both disagreed. If Caspian was sick, he'd be parading around pretending nothing was wrong, and certainly wouldn't have delayed the trip to the harbour. Trumpkin then suggested he'd received word of some pending attack, but Trufflehunter found that unlikely. If Narnia was in any danger, he'd have called them into council immediately. Drinian kept silent about his suspicion, for he didn't want to upset the others. Privately, he feared that yesterday's cheerfulness had merely been an act, and Caspian had actually spent the morning making plans to abdicate.

The meal was an uncomfortable thing. The rest of them were all silent, not wanting to start any conversation, lest Caspian was about to make an announcement. But the King spent the meal dawdling over his food, while staring off into the distance like his mind was in another world. Finally, the plates were all cleared away, and the dining hall was largely emptied. But Trumpkin, Trufflehunter and Drinian remained behind, unwilling to leave before Caspian did, in case he was going to say something.

Finally, he appeared to become aware that he still had company.

"Friends," he said, "I wish to talk with you privately ... in the chamber behind the throne room. I will meet you there shortly."

He then promptly pushed back his chair, and disappeared up a nearby staircase.

"Fireflies and flutes!" Trumpkin said. "What _is_ this about, then?"

"We shall soon find out," Drinian said, standing up from the table. "We should prepare ourselves," he added, somewhat sadly.

"It mightn't be bad news," Trufflehunter said.

No one could think of anything good that would require such privacy, however. They didn't speak as they made their way to the meeting chamber. Drinian sat down near the window, taking comfort in the view of the ocean and beach. Trumpkin paced around by the door, mumbling about turrets and tadpoles. Trufflehunter curled up on the couch like a cat, resting his head on his front paws. Eventually, he said, "Well, whatever happens, Aslan will always be our good lord. We've come through bad times before."

Drinian and Trumpkin never got a chance to reply. At that moment, Caspian strode into the room, holding something in his arms that was covered by a silky black cloth. He stopped when he reached the table, and put it down cautiously, like it was worth a thousand nuggets of gold. Once certain it was steady, he turned back and made sure there was no one listening outside, and then closed the door tightly.

"Friends," Caspian said, turning to face them, "this morning, I discovered that Soreus had left behind a gift for us. It was found in his room, with a letter explaining everything."

Their eyes were focused intently on the cloth, trying to guess what was under it, based on the shape. Caspian began to walk around it.

"This is a gift that could be misused in the wrong hands. But for us, it is a great blessing. That is why I bind you all to secrecy."

"Pies and pitfalls, what is it?!" Trumpkin said, impatiently.

Caspian smiled, and then picked up a corner of the cloth. Everyone leaned forward. As the black folds of material swept away, Drinian caught a flash of green, then the glint of glass and metal. A moment later, he remembered it. The pinecone shaped ornament they'd discovered in the sack on the first night of Soreus' visit.

"Oh," Trumpkin said, when the object had finally been revealed. "Well ... I suppose we could put it in a guest room."

"It's not merely an ornament, Trumpkin," Caspian said, sounding a little exasperated. He held up a piece of parchment. "This letter he left explains everything. Lord Drinian - will you do the honour?"

"Of course, Sire," Drinian said, accepting the letter. "Dear Friends," he read aloud. "As a token of my thanks for the saving of my life and generous hospitality, I would like to present you with this gift. It was given to me by the town chief of Yandolin, a village in the far north, who are known in that part of the world for their agoraphobia. This device was given to them by a passing junk dealer, but they since discovered that it has magical properties unlike those ever seen, or are likely to be seen again." Drinian paused, reading on ahead silently.

"And?" Trufflehunter prompted. "What does it do?"

"He talks for a few paragraphs about how they discovered its properties," Drinian said, eventually, smoothing out the parchment. "It seems somewhat exaggerated."

"He's a storyteller," Caspian said. "That's expected. He says what it does in the last part."

Drinian resumed reading. "Then, at last, the truth was revealed. After months of experiments, they now knew what this object was for. It was in fact a ..." Drinian broke off.

"Drinian!" Trumpkin said, just about falling off his seat in annoyance.

Drinian ignored him, and continued reading. Then he looked up at Caspian. "Sire, you don't really believe this is the truth, do you?"

"Why not?" Caspian said. "We've encountered stranger things than this."

"What does it do!?" Trumpkin shouted. "Birds and bobcats, I'm going to come over there and snatch it in a moment."

"He claims it is a device that allows one to travel to other worlds," Drinian said, frowning. "The symbols around the sides translate to mean 'the Green Gateway'."

Trumpkin merely gaped.

"Why would he give such a valuable thing to us?" Trufflehunter asked, quickly.

"Apparently you need an object from another world to activate it," Drinian said. "But he doesn't have one, so it is useless to him. He says: I know such explorers like yourselves may eventually happen across an other-worldly object. In such an event, you will now be able to put it to good use."

"We already have one!" Caspian said, his eyes wide with excitement. "Edmund's torch. This is wonderful - do you know how long I've wanted to visit their world? Even when I thought their world was just a myth!"

"It would be an adventure ..." Trumpkin said, thoughtfully.

"I'd love to see the High King Peter again," Trufflehunter added.

"Friends, I very much doubt this Green Gateway does what he claims," Drinian said. "It is no doubt one of his jokes. He never imagined we would actually have an object from another world."

"Then you'll have no problem with me putting it to the test," Caspian said. "Wait here. I am going to fetch the torch."

All at once, everyone began to protest.

"No!"

"Sire, this could be hazardous," Drinian said.

"Weren't you just saying it isn't really a transport device?" Caspian said, with a grin.

"I believe not, Sire," Drinian replied. "But on the slight chance that this object is such a device ... it is too dangerous for your majesty to risk yourself."

"Dangerous? How could travelling to another world be dangerous? Lucy, Edmund and Eustace were none the worse for wear."

"Do we know it is possible to return, or is this a one way contraption?" Drinian suggested.

"You sound like a marshwiggle," Caspian said. "Did you leave your sense of adventure on the _Dawn Treader_, my lord?"

Drinian fell silent, stung by Caspian's remark.

"Well," Trumpkin said, "if his majesty wants to see the other world ... I will support it. As long as I come too, of course."

"Thank you, Trumpkin," Caspian said. "Of course you shall come. You will all come. Our other-worldly friends will be overjoyed to see us all."

"What do you say, Trufflehunter?" Drinian asked, while taking a closer look at the Gateway.

"Sire," Trufflehunter said, "I will support this on one condition."

"Anything, my friend," Caspian said.

"That you first ask Aslan's permission. He is the gatekeeper of the doors between worlds. It would only be right to use it if it is something He approves of."

"Ask Aslan?" Caspian said, surprised. "But how? It isn't as if one can just whistle Him and he'll come, Trufflehunter. As the stories say, he isn't tame."

"If you ask, he will hear you."

"Besides, Lord Drinian does make a fair point," Caspian said. "It may just be one of Soreus' jokes. I wouldn't wish to waste the Lion's time with a hoax. I'm sure he has more important things to attend to."

"But there is a chance it could work," Trufflehunter said.

Caspian was becoming visibly frustrated at this point. "If Aslan doesn't wish us to use this, then he will surely make his wishes known without any intervention from me. He always has in the past." Something flashed in his eyes for a moment, and Drinian knew he was thinking of the events at the edge of the world.

"Then give him a chance to do so, Sire. Sleep on this."

"All I want to do is visit my friends!" Caspian said. "Is that so wrong?"

"Your defensive arguing suggests that perhaps your majesty thinks it might be," Trufflehunter said.

"Ah!" Caspian said. "I wish by all the stars in the sky that Reepicheep was here! He would call you cowards for not embracing this opportunity with all enthusiasm!"

"If it is cowardice to avoid defying Aslan, than I will gladly be a coward," Trufflehunter said, sounding hurt.

"I never suggested _defying_ the blasted Lion," Caspian snapped.

Three mouths fell open in shock. Several seconds passed before Caspian realized what had just slipped out of his mouth.

"Trufflehunter, I ... I'm sorry ..."

"If his highness will excuse me," Trufflehunter said, coldly. He then padded over to the door, and left the room without another glance in Caspian's direction. Caspian started to walk after him, but then stopped. He turned to the others.

"My lords, I didn't mean it! I swear, I didn't know what I was saying ... "

Drinian ran his fingers through his black hair, wearily. That particular word - blasted - was a favourite of Eustace's, and many sailors on the _Dawn Treader_ had picked it up, much to their captain's annoyance. And now, it seemed, it had found its way into Caspian's vocabulary. Not surprising, considering they had shared a cabin for months.

Trumpkin was shaking his head. "If it had been one of us who said that, Sire, they would find themselves fighting a badger to the death right now, I'm sure. Trufflehunter is nothing if not stubborn when he believes he's right."

"Oh, curse my temper," Caspian said. "It has done nothing but cause a rift between myself and my dear friend. I will go and attempt to make amends."

"Perhaps it would be wiser for me to go, your highness," Drinian said, standing up. "He may not be open to speaking with you just yet. I will make him see reason."

"Very well ... but please, tell him that I beg for his forgiveness."

Drinian walked quickly from the room, already mentally listing all the places Trufflehunter could be. He must find him. Not only because he wanted to see both his friends on good terms once again, but because he felt partially responsible for this. If he'd told Trufflehunter about the events at the eastern edge, this would never have happened.

* * *


	5. The Albatross

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Albatross**

* * *

Trufflehunter was not in the castle, at least as much as Drinian had searched. A quick conversation with a dryad convinced Drinian he was not among the orchard trees, either. If he had gone outside the castle gates, then it would take a blood hound to find him. The only other place was the beach, but that was unlikely. The badger never did feel comfortable so close to such a large body of water.

But it was the only place he could look, before resigning himself to a hunt in the woods beyond. The tide was on its way out, leaving behind damp, firm sand. Drinian was rewarded with a trail of badger-sized pawprints, leading off in the northerly direction down the beach. They went on for a good two kilometres, then proceeded around a bend so Drinian was now nearly out of sight of the castle. The footprints ended a few hundred meters up the beach ... and with an animal that was definitely not a badger. It was crouched on its hind legs beside a small stream, staring intently into the water. It was an otter, one of an entire family that dwelled around the Great River mouth.

"Good afternoon, Lord Drinian," she said, as Drinian came within conversation distance. She did not turn from watching the water, and clearly had a good sense of smell.

"And to you," Drinian said. "What brings you out this way?"

"Good fishing, my lord."

"I don't suppose you've seen Sir Trufflehunter?"

"Not today, my lord. Ah, if you'll excuse me." The otter dived into the stream, and began to swim rapidly upstream. Drinian watched until she disappeared, then turned back towards the palace. Perhaps he should summon Trillitook when he reached the garden. The blackbird could spread the word among the trees that Lord Drinian was looking for Trufflehunter. On the other hand, did he really want the populace speculating about what might have caused such a situation? They were in need of something new, now that the gossip about Caspian and Rilami had dried up.

Drinian paused for a moment, his gaze naturally turning towards the sea. Life was so much simpler out there on the waves. If only he had a ship ready, he could sail north and leave Caspian to sort out his own problems. The idea filled him with pleasure for a brief moment, and then he felt ashamed of such thoughts. This was his king ... but firstly and most importantly, his friend. He had a duty.

Upon turning back to resume his walk, he discovered he was not as alone as he thought. There was a cluster of black rocks a short distance away, higher up on the beach. Atop them sat a magnificent albatross. They were the largest of seabirds to begin with, but this one was truly a sight to behold. Its proud head was turned out to sea, to the left of Drinian, but he was sure he had been seen. He remained still for a while, not wishing to scare the bird away. It was rare for a person to be even this close to an albatross.

Finally, seeing as the bird seemed quite relaxed, he took a few cautious steps forward. It never moved. It simply continued to watch the waves in its rather intense manner. Finally, Drinian was only a few steps away from touching it. The bird turned its head to regard him, and Drinian found himself lost in its soulful eyes, framed by the stark black markings. By this point, he was under the strong suspicion that the bird was intelligent. At any rate, there was no one else around to catch him talking to a dumb bird, if his suspicion was incorrect.

"Good afternoon to you, wanderer of the sea," he said, dipping his head slightly.

The bird returned the gesture, and then spoke. His voice was rich and calm. "Greetings, Son of Adam."

Drinian stared at the bird, momentarily at a loss for words. Not only was this a talking albatross, it was an albatross well versed in history. The bird returned his gaze steadily, until Drinian roused himself.

"Forgive my staring," Drinian said, "but I've never seen one of your kind so close before. It is an honour. I've been helped many times by your guidance at sea. I remember the first time I saw an albatross ..." He broke off, suddenly realizing he was babbling like an excited peasant meeting a famous king. This bird had probably been enjoying the peace and quiet until he'd shown up. He was about to excuse himself, when the bird spoke up, as if reading his thoughts.

"Please, continue," he said, shuffling aside to make room for Drinian on the rocks. "Tell me of this first time you saw an albatross."

"Well," Drinian said, thinking back. He was feeling a little awed, but he accepted the bird's invitation, and sat down on the flat-topped rock. "When I was younger, I was the first mate on a cargo ship that sailed the routes between the Seven Isles and Terebinthia. One night we -"

"- sailed into a fog," the albatross picked up. "And drifted off course, unknowingly heading for uncharted rocks."

"That was you?" Drinian said, glancing at the bird in surprise. "If you hadn't appeared when you did ... if I hadn't asked the captain to follow you, as I wanted a closer look ... you saved all our lives."

"Was that truly the first time you saw an albatross?" the bird enquired. It had resumed staring out to sea.

Drinian thought hard, sifting through his memories. After a moment of silence, his companion prompted him.

"Son of Adam, do you remember the first time you sailed on the great Eastern Sea?"

"Aye," Drinian said, thinking back. "When I was a boy, the evil king Miraz murdered my father, and my mother and I were forced to flee Narnia." He paused, feeling an old sadness. "We sailed for many days and nights."

"Your mother did not know if you would ever find land, although she told you otherwise," the albatross said, quietly.

"And she went without adequate food and water to keep me alive," Drinian said, sadly. "I don't think she'd have survived another day, if I hadn't seen ..." He trailed off, as long forgotten memories were stirred to life again. "It was you," he realized. "I spotted your great form, soaring in the air above. My mother said you were a spirit of the sky, and would lead us to land. And so you did. Friend, I can see I owe you my life many times over. I am forever in your debt. If there is anything you ever need ... tell me, what brings you on to land this fine afternoon? I would rather be at sea myself."

"I was brought here by a friend's request," the albatross explained.

"Speaking of friends," Drinian said. "I don't suppose you've seen a badger, hereabouts?"

"This would be an odd place to find a badger, Son of Adam."

"Yes," Drinian said, "but if he's not here, it will mean I'll have to search the woods, a mammoth task. I felt it easiest to look in the most accessible places first."

"How did you come to be searching for this badger?"

Drinian hesitated, wondering if he should really divulge such information. There was no real reason to, and this was a private matter involving the King. But he very much wanted to tell his feathered companion everything. He could provide a new perspective, as one uninvolved, and Drinian had no doubt that he would offer good advice.

"It is a sensitive matter," Drinian said, finally.

"Everything you say to me will remain between us," the bird said.

Drinian supposed he should question this. But there was something about this albatross that made him believe everything he said, without hesitation.

"See that castle yonder?" Drinian said, gesturing.

"The castle of Cair Paravel, where Caspian reigns as king."

"Aye. We had a visitor as of late. He has gone on his way now, but left behind a gift for us. He claims it is a transport device that will allow one to journey into another world. A Gateway."

Drinian had been expecting the bird to either laugh or express wonder, but he simply nodded his black and white head.

"His majesty has a great passion for exploration and adventure," Drinian continued. "He wished to put the device to the test. My badger friend was opposed. It descended into a quarrel. Now I am attempting to seek him out so he and my king can be reconciled. They are old and dear friends ... I would hate for this rift to exist any longer than necessary."

"What are your feelings towards this gateway device?" the albatross asked.

"I admit to being curious," Drinian said, "yet also skeptical. But I am against his majesty using it. I fear it could be dangerous."

"Your voyage to the eastern edge was dangerous," the bird said. "That did not hold you back."

"Are you saying we should go ahead and use it?" Drinian asked.

"Nay, Son of Adam. Just that perhaps danger is not what you truly fear."

"You speak the truth," Drinian said, wondering how the bird had seen through him so easily. "It's not. I am ashamed to speak out loud what I truly fear. You see, I ..." He trailed off for a moment, considering, and then said, "I fear that if we do reach the other world, Caspian will not want to return."

"You fear he will abandon his kingdom?"

"On our great voyage, my faith in his commitment to Narnia was shaken," Drinian explained. "He wanted to leave the ship's company and sail on to the end, from which he knew he was unlikely to return. It was only timely interference that prevented him from doing just that. I know he loves this country beneath us ... but perhaps he loves adventure more. The temptation of a whole new world to explore may prove too much."

"What does Caspian say to these concerns?"

Drinian was silent for a moment, and he stared down at the shifting sand. "I have not shared them. It would be inappropriate. I am his subject."

"Also his friend."

Drinian fingered a barnacle on the rock, feeling uncomfortable. These exact thoughts had been through his mind many times before. It was strange to hear someone else repeat them back to him. "I am not comfortable with serious conversations," Drinian said, finally. "I had thought Trufflehunter might ..." It sounded like a feeble excuse to Drinian's ears, even as he spoke the words. He thought for a moment, and then continued.

"I suppose I have not spoken to him because I fear what he will say. If he should say my fears are with good cause ... the peace we have forged in Narnia could be shattered. If Calormen should hear that the Narnian king is to abdicate, they will most surely attack. They know Caspian has no heir to the throne. Yet if his highness should say my fears are unfounded ... I would fear that he was lying to avoid worrying me. Or perhaps, by even mentioning the possibility, I will have put the idea in his head."

"A difficult situation," his companion said.

"Yes," Drinian agreed. Somehow, just voicing his thoughts, made his choice seem clearer. "I suppose it is better not to raise the issue, at least until I am certain of Caspian's intentions. But I do believe it would be a mistake to use the Gateway."

"In your years of sailing these waters," the albatross said. "You will know that one can gain knowledge through making a mistake."

"Aye," Drinian agreed. "And one is never too experienced a sailor to learn from one's mistakes."

There was silence for a moment, while Drinian considered the point. Caspian would undoubtedly use the device anyway, with or without his approval.

"If he goes to this other world, I must go with him," Drinian said, distantly. "I cannot let him face what might lie there alone."

"One of the greatest measures of true friendship," the albatross said, "is a willingness to stand beside one's friends as they make mistakes. Remember that, Son of Adam."

The sun had shifted across the sky, and Drinian's thoughts turned back to Cair Paravel. He had been gone a long time. Caspian would be wondering where he was.

"You offer wise counsel," Drinian said, standing up. "I did not know how much I needed to think about this before I met you. You would do this kingdom a great favor if you could talk some similar sense into his majesty."

Drinian had said it as a joke, but the bird regarded him for a moment, and then said, "Caspian does not feel ready to speak to me. But by all means, tell him I am waiting here for him."

"Whom should I say is waiting?"

"Aslan," the bird replied.

"You were named after the Lion?" Drinian said, raising an eyebrow.

The albatross chuckled in a friendly way, and then said, "Perhaps you should sit down again, Son of Adam."

* * *

Caspian and Trumpkin were sitting in the throne room playing a subdued and distracted game of chess, when Drinian burst through the doors. Trumpkin started and knocked the entire board to the floor. The pieces rolled away, and Drinian nearly tripped on one as he rushed up beside them. There was a shine in his eyes, like one who had just had an epiphany.

"What happened?" Caspian asked. "Did you find Trufflehunter?"

"Nay!" Drinian said. "I found the Lion ... he's down on the beach right now!"

"The Lion?" Caspian said, standing up in surprise. "You mean ... Aslan?"

"Of course!"

"Are you sure it's not some other talking lion?" Caspian asked.

It was a stupid question, and Caspian knew it. They'd been no native talking lions in Narnia since the days of Caspian's ancestors, who had hunted them ruthlessly, believing one of them to be the rumoured supreme guardian of Narnia.

"See for yourself, Sire!" Drinian said, pointing towards the east-facing window.

Trumpkin and Caspian walked over cautiously. Trumpkin reached the window before Caspian, took one look, then jumped back immediately.

"Wraiths and wreckage!"

Caspian took a longer look, enough to see the Lion was pacing up and down somewhat impatiently. He drew back quickly.

"He heard your dishonourable words!" Trumpkin said, pointing at Caspian. "You're doomed!"

"Don't be ridiculous, my lord," Drinian said. "I was just speaking with him. He is not angry. Is his capacity for forgiveness not known to be infinite? Regardless, even if he were, it is our greatest honour to face him regardless, as I'm sure his majesty will agree."

"What? Oh ..." Caspian said. "Of course, Lord Drinian. You speak the truth. I ... I should go at once." He took a deep breath, and started to walk towards the exit.

"What should we do if you do not return, Sire?" Trumpkin asked.

"Lord Trumpkin!" Drinian said, annoyed. "Of course our good majesty will return."

Caspian wasn't so confident. He made his way slowly down the steps, and then turned towards the western exit of the castle. He would walk around the long way, past the treasury. That would give him a chance to compose himself. It wouldn't befit a king of Narnia to appear before Aslan looking like he thought he was going to eat him. Unfortunately, the walk only gave him time to feel more nervous. When he came to the juncture between the treasury and the path leading outside, he hesitated. Perhaps he should wait here for a minute ... maybe make sure the door to the treasure chamber was locked.

As Caspian walked down the short flight of stairs, he recalled he'd been about to go down here before. To collect Edmund's torch ...

The memory caused the king to come to a sudden halt. Aslan wasn't here in response to the angry words he'd spoken in haste! The Lion was here because of the Gateway ... he was here to tell him that he was not to use it. The knowledge filled Caspian with both joy and horror. Joy that this meant the device actually worked and he had a means of being reunited with his friends. And horror that he might not be allowed to do so.

For a moment, his horror turned to anger. This was just like the events at the eastern edge. Once again, he was going to be forbidden from fulfilling his deepest desires. Why was he given this desperate need to explore if every opportunity was going to be denied him? A cruel torture!

But almost as quickly, he became disgusted at his own anger. He had sworn to rule and protect this land, not desert it because he wanted to pursue his own flights of fancy. Aslan was right to have turned him back at the world's end. He was always right ... if he didn't want him to use this device, there would be a good reason for it.

But how badly did he want to! It felt as if he would be unhappy to the end of his days if he did not give into this one wish. The temptation was too great. His mind couldn't help but consider the possibility ... he could return to Trumpkin and Drinian, with Edmund's torch in hand. He could tell them he had spoken with Aslan and had his blessing to use the Gateway.

_Which would be a terrible and shameful lie_, Caspian told himself, pushing the idea away.

_But how else would you ever get to do this?_

Caspian sighed, staring at the treasury door. He was the king of Narnia. He had to set an example for everyone, not be plagued by mortal temptations. Besides, could he honestly be contemplating doing something in defiance of Aslan?

_But it wouldn't be defiance if he never actually said you couldn't do it_, Caspian thought. After all, this was all just speculation, wasn't it? Perhaps Aslan was the one responsible for the Gateway falling into their hands in the first place. If that was the case, he wouldn't be lying to Drinian and Trumpkin ... not completely.

_But it would still be lying! _Caspian sighed, and turned away from the treasury door. He wouldn't give into temptation. He'd already stood here far too long ... Aslan would ask him why he had taken so much time. Caspian hesitated again, wondering how he could answer such a question. To say anything other than exactly what he'd been contemplating would be less than the truth. To admit that he'd been tempted to lie to his friends would be as bad as having done so ... he'd be sternly reprimanded for such immoral thoughts.

So ... if he was already in such a position, perhaps he should just do it. He may be the king, but he wasn't some kind of saint.

Caspian suddenly reached for his treasury keys, knowing he had to do this while his resolve still held out. He immediately felt a rush of excitement at the thought of what might lie ahead. It overshadowed any remaining fears he had. In a moment, he was carrying Edmund's torch back towards the throne room.

Drinian and Trumpkin were sitting on either side of the chess table, but they were not playing. In fact, the chess pieces still lay scattered on the floor, where Trumpkin had dropped them earlier. They both looked up at his return, questions clear in their faces.

"It's all right," Caspian said, walking immediately over to the device. It was resting on a table between two of the thrones. "We can use the Gateway. I have Edmund's torch."

"You mean Aslan said we could use it?" Trumpkin said, standing up. "If he was allowing us to visit the other world, wouldn't he just send us himself? Why would we have to use this contraption?"

"I don't know," Caspian said, not meeting Trumpkin's eyes. "All I know is that I'm not waiting any longer. Are you coming?"

"Of course," Trumpkin said. "But what about Trufflehunter?"

"He's not here," Caspian said. "He'll have to stay behind. I wish it were otherwise, but we don't have time to find him."

"Are you joining us, Lord Drinian?" Trumpkin enquired.

Caspian looked over at Drinian. His friend met his gaze for a moment, and Caspian had to fight not to look away.

"I'll follow you anywhere," Drinian said, finally.

Caspian activated the Gateway, just as Soreus had described in the letter. It glowed into life, bathing them instantly in the green light. Caspian reached out, gripping Trumpkin's shoulder. He, in turn, held Drinian's forearm. Caspian stretched out his hand, hovering the torch directly above the device, in the triangular green field. For a second, it seemed like nothing was happening. Then the light suddenly grew a lot brighter and a lot whiter. Then Caspian had a feeling like he was drifting off to sleep.

If anyone had entered the throne room at that moment, they would have been just in time to see three people and one device vanish into thin air.

* * *


	6. A New World

* * *

**Chapter 6: A New World**

* * *

The next thing Caspian knew, his hand was being nudged by something wet and cold. He pulled it away, and then started to roll over. That's when he realized the ground he was lying on was not only rock hard and dirty, but it smelt like rotting food. His eyes opened immediately, and he shuffled up into a sitting position. A large black dog was standing over him.

"Hello," Caspian said. "Would you mind telling me what country this is?"

The dog stared at him, and then began to pant and wag his tail. The sight filled Caspian with excitement. Not that a non-talking dog meant success by itself. There were, of course, many non-talking dogs in his own world. But it was a sign.

Caspian crawled up off the ground, and brushed off his tunic and leggings. A quick analysis of the area showed they were in some kind of alleyway between two buildings. The walls on either side were made of a dull red stone, cut into perfect squares. They rose up so high, the sky was only a small rectangle at the top. And it was a dull, gray sky.

Caspian looked back down at his feet, and found the Gateway was resting on the ground a few feet in front of him. It was deactivated, and no longer glowing. Edmund's torch lay beside it. Trumpkin and Drinian were slumped against the wall, still unconscious. He immediately bent down to rouse them.

"Friends! Wake up!"

Drinian stood up immediately. Trumpkin proved more difficult. He kept saying 'tubs and tortoiseshells!' and rolling over. Finally, they picked him up by one arm each and forced him to stand. He immediately woke up and took in his surroundings in one glance.

"Crabs and crumpets! Is _this_ the other world? Well, I don't think much of it."

"We've only seen a small fraction of it," Caspian protested. "Narnia has its unattractive places too."

"Nothing like this," Drinian said, appearing equally unimpressed. "Where are all the trees and grass? It's like a dungeon cell. Hie, look yonder. Inhabitants."

Caspian followed Drinian's point, and saw several derelict-looking youths, further down the alley. They appeared to be painting some words on the wall. It went against Caspian's better judgement to ask them for help, but there was no one else around and they needed some answers. He strode towards them, followed closely by Drinian and Trumpkin.

"Good day to you," Caspian said. There were four males, of varying ages. The oldest one looked like he might be of an age with him. "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to tell us what country this is?"

The boys stared at them, looking both confused and nervous for a moment. Then one of them smirked, in an unfriendly manner.

"Australia."

"No, it's France," another said, nudging the first one. "Bonjour! Hey, look at the munchkin!" He pointed at Trumpkin. "Are you off to see the wizard of oz?"

Caspian gazed at his friends and saw they were as confused as he.

"We're not here to see a wizard," Caspian said. "We're travellers from afar. I would appreciate it if you could give us some information. Is this a round world? Round like a ball?"

But two of the boys had started singing a tune about being 'off to see the wizard', and then the older one tossed the empty paint can at Trumpkin. The dwarf immediately drew his sword. On sight of it, the boys turned and ran.

"That went well," Caspian said, rubbing his head. "Maybe we should have asked them where to find this wizard. He may be more helpful."

"But we don't know if he's the good or bad kind of wizard," Trumpkin said.

"I suggest we go that way," Drinian said, pointing in the other direction. "I hear distant noise. Perhaps we could ask someone where we could find Edmund, Lucy or Eustace."

"Good idea," Caspian said. He paused beside the Gateway. "What should we do with this? Take it with us?"

"Perhaps it would be better to hide it here," Drinian said. "Let's make this our meeting point, lest we become separated."

"We just need a hiding place," Caspian said, looking around. There was a rusty metal barrel lying on its side. He placed the Gateway inside it, then covered the opening with other bits of scrap, until it was suitably disguised.

"This paint might also be useful," Drinian said, picking up the can that had been thrown at Trumpkin. "I'll mark the walls so we can find our way back."

That turned out to be an even better idea, as they had to take many turns to get out of the alleyway, while stepping over several piles of rubble. When they emerged out into the street, Caspian froze in surprise. A machine with wheels rushed past, but no person or animal was pulling it.

"Trees and turnips!" Trumpkin said. "By the Lion! What was that?"

"Some kind of advanced machine," Drinian said.

"Marvellous," Caspian said. "Imagine how far you could travel in a device like that!"

"They make an unpleasant noise," Trumpkin said, covering his ears as another one roared past. It had large wheels, an open top, and they could see several people inside. "I say we move on. What hey, look here, Sire."

Trumpkin had turned around and was now looking at an older man, who sat resting against another concrete wall. There was an upturned hat beside him, along with a sign that read 'need money for food'. He was staring at them like they were crazy.

Caspian walked over to speak to him. "Hello. We're newcomers here, and I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to help us. We're looking for our friends. Edmund and Lucy."

The man continued to stare at him, and his eyes grew wide.

"Could you at least tell us what country we find ourselves in?" Caspian asked.

The man pointed at the hat.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any of your currency," Caspian said. He felt around in his pockets for anything else the man might accept but turned up nothing but a dwarf-made multi-purpose tool. He turned to his friends, but all Trumpkin had was a pipe and something to smoke, and all Drinian produced were a few Narnian coins, a compass, and two seashells.

"We have nothing to offer you but our gratitude," Caspian said, turning back to the man.

He promptly picked up his sign and hat and went wandering off, mumbling something about laying off the whiskey.

"I dislike this country more every second," Trumpkin said, grouchily.

"I wonder what despotic king or queen rules this land, that they would allow their subjects to live in such poverty," Caspian said, sadly. "I fear our friends are under the rule of a tyrant."

"I am not entirely sure they have a monarch, Sire," Drinian said. "If my memory serves me well, didn't Eustace explain something to the contrary?"

"Not exactly," Caspian said. "He said he didn't believe in royalty because he was some funny word ... rebublica something. I asked him what that meant, but he made a face like I was absolutely stupid for not knowing, and then returned to the cabin. He never spoke of it again."

Some more people were coming towards them, this time an older couple with a dog. They looked healthier than the people they'd seen so far. Drinian stepped forward.

"With your leave, I will try this time, Sire."

"By all means," Caspian said.

But as soon as Drinian opened his mouth, the woman interrupted. "Whatever you're selling, we don't want it." Then they walked on quickly.

"Selling?" Drinian said, staring after them in confusion.

"Don't look at me," Trumpkin said, folding his arms. "I want to go home. Why are all the people we've seen humans? Where are the fauns and badgers and centaurs? Where are the dwarfs?"

"This man looks friendlier," Caspian said, seeing an older man in odd grey clothes crossing over to their side of the road. He stopped and beamed at them.

"Well, well, look at you lot! On your way to a costume party, then? Good show."

"No, good sir, we are in fact looking for some friends of ours," Caspian said, warming to the tone. "Edmund and Lucy. There's also Eustace, Susan, and Peter. They must be famous explorers here."

"Ah ..." the smile had faded from the man's face, and now he looked confused. "Well, where do they live? I'm only a visitor to this part of London myself."

"London!" Caspian said. "Is that where we are? My friends come from a country called England. Could you tell us how to get there?"

Now the man looked uncomfortable. "Are you tourists?"

"Travellers from afar," Caspian said.

"Is this some kind of joke?" the man said, narrowing his eyes. "Some kind of publicity stunt? You're working for the papers?"

"I assure you, kind sir, no joke," Caspian said. "If you could please give us directions, you will have my gratitude."

"Well, London, where you are now, is the capital of the country England. So how did you get here? By ship or by plane? If you are really as lost as all that, I think you need to go to the police station or perhaps to a citizen's advice center. What country are you from, anyway?"

Caspian was about to answer him, when Drinian raised a hand in warning. Caspian considered it for a moment, and then decided it was best not to mention Narnia just yet.

"You've been most helpful," Caspian said, bowing slightly to the stranger. "We will be on our way."

The man stared after them as they walked down the street, obviously wondering if they were mad.

"These clothes make us stand out," Drinian said. "I suggest we try and procure some clothing that will make us less conspicuous."

"Agreed," Caspian said, "but our first priority is to locate Edmund and Lucy. Someone here must have heard of them."

While they'd been talking, they'd been walking up a street that sloped upwards. When they reached the top, they found the street they were on joined an even wider one. There were numerous buildings with signs attached to the roofs and windows. Some vaguely made sense to Caspian - 'Fresh Oranges!' - while others did not - 'Eddie's Electronics'. But what surprised him the most was the amount of people - everywhere he looked, there were groups of them, inside the buildings, walking on the streets ... sitting on benches under clusters of trees.

"Stars and satyrs!" Trumpkin said. "Look at that!"

He was pointing at a particularly large sign above a huge, round shaped building, which showed a man and a woman clutching each other and gazing into each other's eyes. There was writing, but it made no sense. 'Island Passions - the story of an unlikely romance. Season starts August 10'.

"It's just some kind of large, very realistic painting," Caspian said.

"But why is it stuck on top of a building?" Trumpkin asked. "Are they the people who live there?"

"I don't know," Caspian said. He turned back, just in time to see Drinian had wandered out on the road. He pulled him back, just as one of the moving transport machines came rushing around the corner. It made a loud honking noise as it roared past them.

"Careful," Caspian said. "I don't think those things can stop."

"Then how do we get across this road?" Drinian said. "I can see something interesting in the window of that building."

"Perhaps there is a bridge," Caspian said, looking up and down the road.

"Excuse me," Drinian said, waving down a passerby. "Is there a bridge across this road?"

They were treated to another semi-fearful look, and then the person hurried onwards.

"Oh, let's just run for it," Caspian said, stepping up to the side of the road. He looked left and right, making sure there were none of the machines coming towards them, and then ran for it. Trumpkin and Drinian were close behind, but then Drinian stopped, right in the middle. Caspian was about to shout at him to hurry up, when he noticed he was gazing at the sky. He also looked up, and saw what had caused Drinian to pause. A giant machine, with wings like a gryphons, was flying over their heads. It made a low rumble that was even louder than the sound of the transport machines.

They were jolted out of their amazement by another loud honking sound. A transport device screeched to a halt, just as they ran for the other side of the road. A person leaned out the window and hurled barbaric language in their direction.

"By the great Eastern Ocean, I say we leave right now!" Trumpkin said. "We could have been killed!"

"Not at all," Caspian said. The sight of the flying machine had excited him. "It stopped, didn't it? And we're safe now. Let's ask someone else as to the whereabouts of our friends."

It wasn't hard to find someone. Some people had stopped and were staring at them curiously.

"Good day to you all," Caspian said, turning to them. "Do any of you know of our friends? Lucy, Edmund and Eustace. They are great travellers."

"Do you work for the theatre?" a lady enquired.

"No, they're from the circus!" a boy said, pointing at Trumpkin.

"We're looking for our friends," Caspian repeated.

"Where's Lord Drinian?" Trumpkin asked, suddenly.

Caspian hastily looked around. The last thing they wanted was to get separated. But his concern was satisfied when he spied Drinian a moment later, standing outside the window of one of the nearby buildings. He walked over, intending to tell Drinian not to wander off again, but instead his attention was caught by the devices behind the window. They were large square boxes with voices emanating from them.

"Magic!" Caspian said, amazed.

"Aye," Drinian said. "Why did our friends never tell us about such wonders? A machine that can talk ..."

"Perhaps this is the house of that wizard," Trumpkin said, standing on his toes to get a better look.

"He must be a friendly wizard," Caspian said, pointing at the doorway to the building. People were walking freely in and out. "The door is open."

"By the stars, these things make music, too!" Drinian said. "Listen!"

Sure enough, the deep notes of some large instrument could be heard emanating from the odd boxes.

"Do you think the person playing that music can hear us, like we can hear them?" Caspian asked.

"I don't care to think about it," Trumpkin said. "I don't like the idea of being trapped in one of those boxes, all the same."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to take one of these things back to Narnia?" Caspian said. "We would be the envy of all the kingdoms in the world! People would travel from far and wide just to see our treasures."

"Tis a thought ..." Drinian said, rubbing his chin.

"I say we find our friends and then start worrying about being the envy of other kingdoms!" Trumpkin said.

"You're right, Trumpkin," Caspian said. "We should be looking for them. But I'm starting to wonder if we'll ever find them. No one seems to have heard of them."

"Someone who could create magic as powerful as this," Drinian said, pointing through the glass, "would surely know a spell for finding people."

"There's an idea," Trumpkin said. "Come on, let's go and talk with the owner of this house."

But they never made it through the door. Caspian took one step after Trumpkin and then paused. There were two people just walking out, a young man and woman. The man was speaking angrily.

"It's always something with you, isn't it, Harriet?!"

"Charlie, please," she said, sounding upset.

"Now don't start blubbing like an idiot!" he complained.

Caspian paused for a moment, making sure he wasn't just misreading this situation, being a stranger in a new land and all. But when the man then added a term that would have made a Terebinthian pirate blush, any doubts he had disappeared.

"Hey there!" Caspian said, shocked. "That is no way to address a lady!"

The man, Charlie, stared at Caspian in surprise for a moment and then said, "Harriet? A _lady_? Boy, I'd hate to see the pickings in your home town, kid. This is no lady."

"Then either you are blind or I am," Caspian said. "For I, most assuredly, can see a lady."

The man then said something about smashing his face in.

"I bet your pardon," Caspian said, confused.

A moment later, he understood perfectly. The front of his tunic was grabbed, and the man swung back a fist to strike him. But he never got any further - with a flash of light on metal, the man suddenly found himself checked by two swords - one at his throat, the other somewhere around his middle. He released Caspian, and jumped back, staring at Drinian and Trumpkin's swords in shock. The lady began screaming for help, and in a moment, several people were rushing up. One was yelling something about calling the police.

Trumpkin and Drinian lowered their swords slightly, thinking the man had backed down, but in a moment, he was rushing at them again. He grabbed Trumpkin's sword in an attempt to push it aside, but ended up cutting his hand on the blade, as a person tends to do when grabbing a sword point bare-handed.

Unfortunately, he tried to wipe his hand on his shirt, which caused a red stain across his white tunic. Some of the new arrivals thought he'd been stabbed and started screaming louder. Just as Caspian was trying to keep a cool head and figure out exactly what they should do now, a transport vehicle roared up nearby, with blaring, flashing lights on its roof.

* * *


	7. A Minor Setback

* * *

**Chapter 7: A Minor Setback**

* * *

For the first time, Caspian was starting to wonder if this whole adventure had been a bad idea. The ride in the transport machine had been a novel experience, but this 'police station' they'd been taken to was a dreary place, where the inhabitants were even less friendly than they'd seen elsewhere. They'd been stripped of their swords and forcibly searched, and then, once at the station, Drinian and Trumpkin were forced to stand against a wall while they pointed something at them that made a bright flash. No one seemed to know who Lucy and Edmund were.

Afterwards, Caspian was invited into a man's office who introduced himself as Constable Joloski. He was middle-aged, brusque, and was smoking some fat tube that made a terrible smell. He was staring in vague disbelief at Caspian's sword, lying sheathed on his desk.

"Where did you get this crazy thing?" he asked, inspecting it.

"It was a gift," Caspian said. "Where did those men take my friends? Can we leave now?"

"You can leave, kid. Go home to your parents. Your friends are under arrest for assault."

"What does that mean?" Caspian asked. "Are they being held prisoner?"

He received a blank stare in response, and then, "Listen, boy, next time, why don't you and your friends play knights and castles in your back yard instead of the street?"

"I assure you, sir, most sincerely, that my friends and I will not cause any more trouble. Please allow us to leave in peace."

"If you really want to get them outta here, you can pay bail."

"I don't have any currency," Caspian sighed. He thought for a moment, and then said, "If you would help me contact my friends, they might be able to provide funds."

"Your problem, not mine."

Caspian was about to reply, when a lady entered the office. Caspian quickly stood up. She leaned against the doorway, folding her arms.

"Do you know their telephone number?"

"I beg your pardon?" Caspian said.

"Your friends. Do you know their telephone number?"

"Sadly, I only know their names," Caspian said, deciding that this number she spoke of must be some kind of tracing tool.

"Mind your own business, Fran," Joloski said, sharply, taking his smoking device out of his mouth for a moment.

"I'll go and fetch a phone directory," she said, smiling at Caspian and ignoring the constable. "Wait right here."

Caspian smiled back, although he didn't understand what she meant by phone directory. All he knew was that this was the first person he'd met since arriving who seemed genuinely interested in being helpful. "Thank you most kindly, my lady," he said, bowing his head slightly.

"Oh, please," the constable said, blowing smoke everywhere. "This is the 1940s, not fifteen hundred!"

The lady had left, so Caspian resumed his seat. "Have I done something to offend you, sir?"

The constable merely continued to smoke, while mumbling something about a lunatic asylum. Before long, the lady returned, carrying a large fat book. "Here we go," she said, placing it on the desk.

Caspian had instantly risen to his feet, causing the constable to slam his hand on the armrest. "Will you stop bobbing up and down like a yo-yo?"

Fran, the lady, sat on the desk. "What is your friend's name?"

"Edmund, Lucy or Eustace," Caspian said.

"Surname?"

"Surname ... oh ..." Caspian thought for a moment. He'd never understood why they had two names in the first place. Wasn't one sufficient?

"You're wasting your time, Fran," Joloski said. "_He_ doesn't even have a surname."

"Scrubb," Caspian said, finally. "Eustace Scrubb. By the dragons, I can't remember Lucy or Edmund's."

"By the dragons," Joloski repeated. "This one is a basket case, I swear it."

Fran opened the book and started leafing through it. Finally, she stopped at a page and showed it to Caspian. "There're three Scrubbs." She then reached over and dragged an odd black device over to Caspian. It had a circle on the front with numbers around the edge.

Caspian opened the book in the middle and skimmed over the pages. It seemed to be a listing of names with associated numbers.

"This black device will allow me to talk with Eustace?" Caspian said, catching on.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," the constable said, shaking his head.

"You've never seen a telephone before?" Fran said, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head.

"You must live in the middle of nowhere."

"If you would be so kind as to show me how it works," Caspian said.

"Well see you lift up the receiver ..." she proceeded to show him where to talk and how to dial the numbers. Then she had to explain what an 'operator' was, which took a good minute. When they finally got through to the correct number, Caspian heard a male voice say, "Hello?"

"Hello," he replied.

"Who is this?" the other voice said.

"Caspian," Caspian replied. "I want to talk with Eustace."

"There's no one called Eustace here. Wrong number."

Then he heard a click and a flat tone.

"They said there was no one called Eustace there," he told Fran.

"Try another number," she said. "It has to be one of them, and there's only three."

Neither of the two other Scrubbs had heard of Eustace either. Finally, he recalled that Eustace lived in a place called Cambridge. Fran returned with the Cambridge telephone directory, and this time, a female voice answered.

"Hello, Alberta speaking."

"Hello," Caspian said, more confidently this time. He was getting used to this now. The first time, he hadn't truly believed the person on the other end would be able to hear him. "May I speak to Eustace?"

"Who is this?" she asked, sounding suspicious.

"Caspian."

"Caspian who?"

"Please, ma'am, I have an urgent matter I must speak with Eustace about."

"What is this urgent matter?"

"I would prefer to keep that between us," Caspian said.

"I am his mother, young man. I think I have a right to know."

Caspian sighed. "Very well. I am a friend of his and his cousins, Edmund and Lucy, and -"

"Oh, you're a friend of _theirs_ are you? Well, frankly, I would appreciate it if you would stay away from my son. Goodbye!"

Caspian heard a loud click and then a dull tone. He immediately tried to call the number again, but something seemed to be preventing it from working.

He looked up to ask Fran for further assistance, but she had left the room. Through the open door, he could see her over the other side of the office, talking with another female colleague.

"Okay, that's it," Joloski said, dragging the telephone back across his desk. "Get out of here. Go back to your castle, Sir Lancelot."

"I need to free my friends."

"I told you. Pay the bail."

"Would you accept gold?" Caspian asked.

The man laughed in a less-than-kind manner.

"Yeah, bring me gold. And maybe a few horses ... some of these swords. A suit of armor."

"Why would you need horses?" Caspian said, suspiciously. "I've seen your transport machines."

"Okay, no horses," Joloski said, taking another puff. "But gold. Lots of gold."

"And then you will you free my friends?" Caspian asked.

"Sure."

"I will return soon," Caspian said. "Until then, do I have your word upon your honour that my friends will not be mistreated?"

"What do you think this is? A Nazi p.o.w. camp?"

"Is that a yes?" Caspian asked.

"Sure, kid."

* * *

Caspian walked slowly down the front steps of the police station. Several people walking the other way gave him odd stares, but he didn't even notice now. The thought of his friends, trapped in prison, all because he didn't keep his mouth shut. Friends who would give their lives for him without a second thought. Friends who trusted him absolutely ...

"Excuse me."

Caspian turned around, and found Fran had followed him.

"Are you going to be all right? You don't need directions?"

"I can find my way," Caspian said. "But I thank you for your concern and assistance. I was beginning to think friendly people were hard to come by in this place. You have changed my mind." He bowed, and then walked on down the stairs.

He heard footsteps, and found Fran was now walking beside him.

"Well, Caspian, I'd love to visit the place you call home. Are all the boys raised to be as polite as you?"

"Oh, I'm not always polite," Caspian said. Sad memories returned to his mind. "Sometimes I can behave quite shamefully. Usually when I don't think before I act. If I'd done that today, my friends and I would not have ended up in this dire situation."

"I have to go back," Fran said. "But listen - cheer up. I'll tell your friends that you're going to pay bail. They'll probably just be let off with a warning ... hire a decent lawyer, and you may even make something out of this. Come back and talk to me if you have any problems. My shift ends in an hour."

She walked off back up the steps, and Caspian stared after her, curiously. The manner in which she spoke to him seemed almost ... motherly. Being in this land, where he was in ignorance of so many things, made him feel very much like the child that Constable Joloski seemed to think he was. He was starting to feel less like the king of Narnia with every step he took and more like a foolish boy who'd been so eager to pursue an adventure, he hadn't stopped to consider the dangers.

He paused for a moment, and closed his eyes. This was a minor setback. Nothing more. He would go back to Narnia, retrieve some gold from the treasury and then return to free his friends. If Joloski wouldn't accept the gold, he would return with a rescue party, and they'd free Drinian and Trumpkin by stealth. Their prison wasn't fortified - a rescue could be achieved quickly and cleanly.

It was growing darker by the time he reached the street where Drinian and Trumpkin had been arrested. There was almost no one around this time, and the buildings looked deserted and dreary. As he searched for the entrance to the alleyways, he noticed many structures were falling apart. One was lying in a mass of blackened and burnt rubble. He didn't want to think about what kind of enemy could wreck such damage on this town.

The paint Drinian had left on the walls led him back to their arrival spot. There was a brief moment of panic when he found the metal barrel was not where he'd left it ... but this passed when he saw it had only been blown a few feet away. He could only hope the Gateway wasn't damaged. The thought of being trapped in this unfamiliar world ...

The device appeared intact. When he switched it on, it lit up with the familiar green glow. Then Caspian retrieved Edmund's torch, and quickly held it in the activation field. Nothing happened.

"No!" Caspian said, frustrated. "No, do not fail on me! Please, please, work!"

He tried again, but still nothing. Fear nearly overcame him for a moment, and then he almost laughed out loud. More stupidity. To get into this world, he'd required an object from this world - Edmund's torch. So, logically, he needed a Narnian object to get back to Narnia. Truly, either the smelly air in this place was addling his mind, or he was losing his sanity.

He felt around in his pockets, and then held out the multi-tool. Once again, everything turned white.

* * *

"What do you think Caspian's doing?" Trumpkin asked, drumming his legs against the base of the bed.

"No doubt trying to secure our release," Drinian said, fingering the cell bars.

"You sound very calm," Trumpkin remarked.

"We've found a way out of worse trouble than this," Drinian said, turning back. "I found some playing cards on the shelf. May I interest you in a game?"

Trumpkin readily agreed. Soon, they were quietly occupied.

"Do you think Aslan intended for us to end up like this?" Trumpkin asked, after a while.

"My lord, you don't really believe that the Lion actually sent us here, do you?"

Trumpkin stopped looking at his cards, and stared at Drinian in surprise. "Are you saying the King lied to us?"

"Bent the truth, perhaps. It was you who suggested he had actually spoken to Aslan, if you recall."

"He didn't deny it! Kites and kippers, what was he thinking?"

"Relax, my friend," Drinian said, calmly shifting the order of his cards around. "I'm sure it will all turn out all right."

Trumpkin was about to respond, when they were interrupted by footsteps. Two ladies appeared on the other side of the bars. Drinian had seen them earlier, when he and Trumpkin were having their fingerprints recorded, for some strange reason.

"Ladies," he said, standing up and bowing.

"Have you come to let us out?" Trumpkin asked, impatiently.

"I just thought I'd make sure you were comfortable," the older of the two said. "Your friend Caspian is making arrangements to pay bail. He's left now, but he said he'd return shortly."

"Thank you, ma'am," Drinian said.

The older one left, but the younger one stayed. She was smiling at Drinian.

"You're allowed a telephone call if you wish ... perhaps you might want to call your wife to say where you are?"

Drinian was confused, but he tried not to show it. Perhaps a phone was a type of messenger bird. "Thank you, ma'am, but there is no one either of us need to inform."

"Ah, not married? How does a handsome charmer like you stay single?"

Drinian was utterly taken aback. Trumpkin rocked with laughter, and then said, "Drinian, here, is married to the ocean."

"You're in the navy?" she asked, brightly. "On shore leave? So, is it true what they say about you sailors?" She gave him a wink.

The older lady returned, and quickly dragged her younger colleague away.

"That was an odd experience," Drinian said, turning back to the cards. "The ladies are very hard to comprehend in this world."

"Isn't that true everywhere?" Trumpkin asked.

* * *


	8. Return to Cair Paravel

* * *

**Chapter 8: Return to Cair Paravel**

* * *

It was the wind that roused Caspian into a sitting position. It was a harsh, bitter wind that blew straight through his clothes. Everything quickly returned to him as he stared round at the darkness. Drinian and Trumpkin were in jail, and it was all his fault. He'd come back to Narnia to retrieve gold to free them. It had been a fairly warm afternoon when they'd left, and they'd only been gone a few hours at most. Why was it night? And why had he been deposited who-knew-where, instead of the throne room at Cair Paravel?

He stood up and turned in circles for a moment, trying to get his bearings. The trees were thick and overgrown, and the branches waved wildly in the wind.

"Tree spirit," he called, placing his hand on a nearby trunk. "Are you awake?"

No one answered him. Now that his eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, he had to admit these trees looked devoid of any intelligence. It seemed a little lighter in front of him, so he picked up the Gateway, and began to walk forward. Before long, he passed a piece of building stone, lying turned on its side. Bits and pieces of the same substance appeared more regularly the further he walked, until finally he emerged into a small clearing. The remains of a wall loomed up in the darkness, black and eerie against the night sky.

Caspian wiped his hands on his tunic, feeling they had become wet with perspiration. There were no ruined buildings like this in Narnia. He knew every square foot of this land, from the lamp-post to Cair Paravel, as a king should. What strange land was this?

He glanced down at the device, wondering if he should try it again. Maybe this was simply a glitch.

But just like the happenings of a few moments before, when he'd tried to put Edmund's torch in the device, nothing happened when he switched it on and placed his multi-tool back in the field.

There was nothing for it but to keep walking. Perhaps he was simply somewhere to the west of Narnia ... maybe he was in Telmar. If he could get out of this forest, and have a good look at the stars, he might be able to pinpoint his location. Thank the Lion for those hours of astronomy lessons with Doctor Cornelius.

He tried not to look at the ruined wall as he walked past it. But it was nothing compared to what awaited him on the other side. When he came through another clump of trees, he found himself stumbling backwards in shock. Pieces of decaying walls and floors were everywhere, stretched out towards the east. And beyond that ... a cliff edge. And a view he knew better than any other.

"NO!" Caspian yelled. It couldn't be ... it couldn't be Cair Paravel! Destroyed and deserted, with the tree spirits gone ... who could have done such a thing? Who would dare? He'd only been gone a few hours!

_Soreus_, he thought, with a flash of rage. The coward ... the vile, evil villain! He was a spy, a traitor ... a two-faced scoundrel. He must have been standing by with an army, just waiting for him to take his bait and leave Narnia.

But it wasn't long before Caspian realized that was impossible. There were no signs of any battle here ... and the trees certainly had not grown like this a few hours ago. It appeared more like he'd arrived here ten years after some great war had befallen the land.

It was then that everything suddenly made sense to Caspian. _A hundred years in Narnia could only take up a minute of our time._

This _was_ many years in the future. Those hours he'd spent wandering around that other world must have taken up a decade here. And now his country - his dear, beautiful Narnia - lay in ruin.

Caspian fell to his knees, and wept.

* * *

Professor Digory Kirke usually didn't leave his home, unless it was necessary. He sometimes felt he was becoming rather reclusive. In all truth, he enjoyed the company of books more than people - and the company of good friends rather than the aloof, somewhat snobbish members of the local fine art society. But he'd felt Peter Pevensie needed to get out of the house. Being a recluse was fine for a gentleman of his age, but not for a bright young man like Peter. So he'd taken him along to this exhibit opening at the local art gallery.

But the boy still seemed preoccupied ... distracted even. Digory was willing to bet he hadn't heard one word of the speeches. He was polite enough to all the people Digory introduced him to, though, and even engaged the daughter of one of the exhibitors in a lengthy conversation.

He joined Digory as the professor began to admire the various paintings.

"Everything all right, Peter?" Digory asked, finally.

"Very much, sir," Peter said. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."

There was silence as they stared at a painting titled 'tombs in the desert'. A boy lay sleeping in the front-right corner of the painting, with a tawny-coloured cat lying at his back.

"I've been thinking about Edmund and Lucy," Peter said, suddenly.

"Ah. Missing your siblings?"

"We've never been separated over the summer, before," Peter explained, "and Lucy and Edmund were so miserable about having to stay with our cousin Eustace. I just hope everything is all right."

"Perhaps you should telephone them."

"Aunt Alberta would probably hang up," Peter said, with a small smile. "She never really liked us."

Behind them, a disgusted voice rang out. "Oh my, what an awful picture! Who's the artist?"

Peter leaned in to read the label. "One Edwian Ricark."

"The standards have certainly lowered this year," the lady said. "Whoever was responsible for accepting this has all the taste of a schoolboy."

"You think so?" the professor said, turning to the lady. "To tell the truth, ma'am, I rather like it."

The lady made a snorting noise, and then moved on. Digory shared a smile with Peter.

"It's funny," Peter said, staring closely at the painting. "This painting reminds me a lot of the country of Calormen."

"It does? How so?"

"They have a collection of tombs in the desert, right outside their capital city of Tashbaan. And this desert ... those tiny mountains on the horizon look just like the range on the southern border of Archenland."

"I wonder what this boy is doing, sleeping in the desert," Digory said, pointing at the figure.

"I'd be glad to have that cat for company, if I was him," Peter agreed.

"Perhaps this artist - what is his name? Ricark? Has visited Narnia."

"You think there might be more of us out there?" Peter said. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a gathering of all the people who had been there."

"A Friends of Narnia society?" Digory suggested, with a smile.

"Something like that. I wonder if he's painted anything else," Peter said, looking at the painting from a different angle. "The more I look at it ... the longer I look at it ... the more real it seems. I can almost see the sand shifting on the desert floor ... hear the wind whistling through those tombs."

The professor had turned to stare at him, hearing something unusual in his voice.

Peter suddenly closed his eyes, and reached up to rub his forehead.

"But that's impossible," he said, firmly.

"Impossible?"

Peter was startled at the strange voice. His hands fell back to his sides, and he glanced up at the professor, who was staring fixedly at the painting. Peter followed his gaze, and found himself looking at the cat, who was climbing off the ground and stretching itself.

"You, of all people, Peter, should not use that word so lightly," the cat said, in a warm, clear voice.

Peter met the gaze of the painted cat, and was overcome with a sense of familiarity. He took a quick glance behind him, and found this part of the gallery was empty. The guests were occupied with the hall of sculptures. He turned back.

"Aslan?" the professor said, sounding far less surprised than Peter felt.

The cat nodded. "Digory, Peter - I need your help. Some Narnians have found their way into your world. They are being held at the police station on Quarter Street, opposite the library."

"Narnians at a police station?" the professor said, in complete surprise.

Peter was too confused to say anything.

"You will have to speak to someone before they will be freed," the cat continued. "Tell him you were sent by me - by Aslan. I will send someone to bring them home once they are safely with you."

"We'll go and find them at once, Sir," Digory said. "Come on, Peter."

"Wait," Peter said, suddenly finding his voice. "How did ... how did Narnians find their way here, Sir?"

"I will leave that story to them," the cat said, lying back down at the sleeping boy's back. He sounded a little weary.

* * *

The worst thing about this future Narnia was it felt so horribly lonely. There were no insect chirps, no bird calls. Even the watery roars of the sea sounded muffled. Tears were streaming from Caspian's eyes as he searched the wreckage for the entrance to the treasury. But he refused to allow himself to rest. He _must_ rescue his friends.

After a few hours of searching in the complete darkness - broken by moments where he nearly gave into despair - the light on Edmund's torch suddenly disappeared. It had been growing fainter and fainter, but Caspian had been half under the impression that was because it was getting darker.

It was then he knew he would have to leave it until dawn. The only good thing was, now that he gave some thought to the time differences, Drinian and Trumpkin would not be wondering where he was. He could spend a day here, and it would probably only take a minute of their time.

But now, he supposed he would have to wait out the night. There was one place where three walls remained together, although the third had half crumbled away. He gathered some dry wood and leaves, and soon had a reasonable fire going. He crouched down in the corner, and hugged his knees.

Beside him, the Gateway sat, powered down and looking deceptively innocent. Caspian was sorely tempted to smash it, but that wouldn't help his friends. Or Narnia, for that matter.

His grief had worn him out, and soon his head began to rest on his arms. His vision blurred with tears, and he closed his eyes. An orange glow still remained, through his lids. That glow became dimmer, and then brighter. The next thing he knew, he was underneath the sun, riding his horse Destrier across the plains of Narnia. The air was fresh, and birds were flying overhead, causing gliding shadows on the ground.

Over the next rise, he would be home at his castle. Caspian smiled as Cair Paravel came into view. There was someone waiting for him at the gate. Waiting to welcome him back. Or so he thought. When the figure came into focus, there was nothing welcoming about him. It was Miraz.

Destrier reared and whinnied, and Caspian was thrown to the ground. He looked up as the walls closed in around him, realizing this wasn't Cair Paravel at all, but his uncle's fearsome castle. Rough hands grabbed him, and shook him as they pulled him to his feet.

"You useless, stupid boy! You're a disgrace."

His uncle raised his hand, and he was struck across the head. Caspian fell to the ground again, hands reaching to rub away the pain.

"I'm sorry!" he cried.

"I'll make you, sorry, boy!" He was dragged back to his feet, and was pulled roughly towards a gaping door. There was darkness within. "I'll teach you some responsibility!"

"Please, Uncle," Caspian said. "I didn't mean to ... I -"

They were in his uncle's room, now, although the specifics of how they'd arrived were fuzzy. Caspian hated this room, even feared it. There were horrible pictures on the walls, stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls, and bear skins covering the floors. The cabinets were full of tusks and horns and claws. It was more like an abattoir than a bedroom. Worst of all, it overlooked the gallows, where his uncle would sometimes leave bodies hanging for weeks ...

His uncle pushed him to the floor, and turned to leave.

"I'll be back," he said, ominously. He locked the door behind him.

"Why, Caspian? What have you done to us?"

Caspian jumped up, staring at the bear skin rug in surprise. The head of the rug turned around to look at him. "You destroyed us."

"No," Caspian said, shaking his head. He could feel tears running down his cheeks.

"You promised to be a good lord to all the talking beasts of Narnia."

Caspian turned to see a stuffed talking mouse, standing on the desk. It sounded exactly like Reepicheep.

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" Caspian sobbed.

"You were supposed to be our king!"

Caspian turned to the other side of the room, from where the newest voice had come. The sight caused him to fall to his knees. Trufflehunter ... his most loyal knight, and truest friend ... now nothing more than a stuffed ornament in his uncle's bedroom.

"No! It can't be ... Trufflehunter, I'm sorry!"

The door banged behind him. His uncle had returned. In his hands, he held the ugly black whip he'd always used. And Caspian did not protest as he was roughly pulled up by the front of his shirt. He deserved it ... he always had, whenever they had these 'conversations'. Because he'd always done such stupid, stupid things.

Then his ears were shaken with a loud crack. The door had burst open, and the room filled with golden light. It was followed by a roar so deep and full, that everything merely crumbled under its resonance. Beside him, Miraz blew away like sand, and the ground beneath him became grassy. The glow in the doorway became dimmer and oranger, then Caspian lifted his head to find himself staring at the fire. He looked around, seeing nothing but darkness. The fire had died down while he'd slept, and he reached for a stick to poke it back to life.

His hands glistened in the firelight as he raised them from his knees, and the wind felt clammy on his forehead. At once, his dream came rushing back. Tears filled his eyes once more, as he realized it wasn't merely a dream. Trufflehunter was likely dead. They all were ... Doctor Cornelius ... Rilami.

The flames rose up in response to his poking. They looked odd through his tears, blurred and fuzzy, like the sun through a frosted glass window. Almost like shapes. Many said you could see fauns dancing in Narnian flames. Perhaps it was just his fragile state of mind, but it wasn't hard to believe it now. Rings of fauns, dancing around in a circle. Then they were enveloped into a larger flame, and the fire became a dragon, flapping its wings and beating its tail. It reminded him of Eustace as a dragon. Then this was devoured by an even larger animal - a lion! The Lion!

_Caspian_ ...

In a moment of panic, Caspian grabbed a heavy log and smothered the fire. Then he turned his back to the remains, and lay down, covering his head with his arms.

_Please, please, don't be here ..._

* * *


	9. Deus Ex Aslana

* * *

**Chapter 9: Deus Ex Aslana**

* * *

"Maybe we should hold off mentioning Aslan until we've found out some more information," Peter said, as he and the professor climbed the stairs to the police station.

"His instructions were clear. He'll know what he's doing."

"I just hope his plan doesn't involve us being arrested as lunatics," Peter said, glancing over at the professor.

Digory smiled. "You can always claim I'm your eccentric old uncle."

They waited in a queue for what felt like an eternity, and then the receptionist directed them to another department. Then they had to wait in another queue. It wasn't a pleasant place to be, and arguments would often erupt in the various rooms around them. Finally, they stepped up to the desk. An officer was sketching a picture of some trees on a drawing pad, and didn't appear particularly attentive.

"How can I help you?" he said, not taking his eyes off his sketch.

"We're here to pick up some friends of ours," Peter said. "They were brought here earlier today."

"Names?"

Peter shared a glance with Digory.

"Um ... we're not quite sure," Peter said.

"What were they brought in for?"

"Well, we're not quite sure of that, either," Peter said. "See ..."

"You want to pay bail for people you don't even know?"

"I didn't say we didn't know them," Peter snapped.

"Just not their names?"

"We were sent by Aslan," Digory interrupted, suddenly.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then the man suddenly looked up, seeing their faces for the first time. His pencil and sketch pad fell on the floor.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked, sounding almost frightened.

"Professor Digory Kirke."

"Peter Pevensie."

"Peter ... Digory ..." he repeated, distantly. He rubbed his head, looking like he was doubting his own sanity. "Where did you hear of Aslan?"

"We've both visited Narnia," the professor explained. He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Are you from Narnia?"

The man shook his head. "I ... I have these odd dreams. I've heard these names in those dreams, many times. Peter, Narnia ... Aslan. But I've never told anyone about ... but I always suspected that perhaps they were more than dreams. Wait, you say you've _been_ to Narnia? You mean it is a real place?"

"As real as real can be," Peter said. "What's your name?"

"Ricark."

"The artist?" Digory said, surprised.

"You've heard of me? I only paint in my spare time ... a few small things. Actually, I paint the scenes I see in these dreams ... visions. Whatever they are."

"The things you've painted are bigger than you imagine," the professor said, distantly. "But we mustn't delay."

"Oh, yes," the man said. "What's this about your friends?"

"They're Narnians," Peter explained. "We don't yet know the full story, but I think they arrived in this world by accident."

"Come with me," he said. "I'll take you to the cells. See if you can find them."

The followed the man through some guarded doors, and down some concrete stairs. Peter had barely walked twenty meters down the cell corridor, when he heard someone calling his name. He looked over, and his face lit up in recognition.

"Trumpkin!"

In a moment, he was gripping the dwarf's hand through the bars. "Oh, D.L.F., it's so good to see you! How did you end up here?"

"Tis a long story," Trumpkin said. "And you know what I'm like at telling stories. Lord Drinian, come and meet the High King Peter."

Peter glanced over at the dark-haired, sunworn man, and smiled. He appeared rather shy, and quickly bowed. "An honor, your majesty."

"Please tell me you are here to free us!" Trumpkin said.

Peter looked back at Ricark, who smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

As they walked out of the police station, now with two free Narnians in tow, Trumpkin stared around as if looking for someone. Finally, he said, "Where's Caspian?"

"Caspian?" Peter said, surprised. "You mean he's here too?"

"He didn't send you?"

"We were sent by Aslan," Peter explained.

Trumpkin and Drinian shared a nervous glance, and the dwarf said, "We assumed he went back to Narnia for help."

"Perhaps he did," Peter said. "Anyway, I'm sure he's fine. Aslan would have said something if he wasn't. I'm just sorry he wasn't with you - I'd have loved to say hello."

"If he goes back to the police station, that Ricark fellow will tell him where we are," Digory said. "I left him my address and telephone number. Now, I believe it's time for some proper introductions."

"Yes," Peter said. "Trumpkin, Drinian - meet Professor Digory Kirke. He was there when Narnia was created, along with his friend Polly. Hey, Professor, when we get back, do you think we could invite Aunty Polly over? She'd love to meet these two."

"I'll telephone her when we get home," Digory said, with a smile. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but we have to make the most of it. Now, let's get on - we don't want to miss the train. You can tell me more on the way." Peter and Digory began to walk across the road, but glanced back when they realized their companions weren't following. They were staring with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Grapes and gryphons!" Trumpkin said. "Do you mean to tell me that you are the same Digory who flew to that garden in the far west, the day the world was created, and brought back that pinecone? I had thought that was just a bedtime story!"

"It was an apple they brought back," Drinian said. "Not a pinecone. And they didn't fly - they rode on a horse. At least, that's the version I heard."

"It was a flying horse, actually," Digory said. "But do hurry up. You can tell me all about yourselves on the way."

"Yes," Peter said, glancing back at Drinian. "I should like to hear your story, Lord Drinian."

"Oh, there's nothing to tell, your majesty," Drinian said, walking beside Peter. "Nothing interesting."

"Did King Edmund and Queen Lucy tell you all about their voyage to the end of the Eastern Ocean?" Trumpkin asked. He patted Drinian on the side. "This here is the _Dawn Treader's_ captain."

"Lucy and Edmund were in Narnia again?" Peter said, surprised. "When was this?"

"A year ago."

"A year ago we just got back from helping put Caspian on the throne," Peter said. "It's that crazy time thing again. I suppose they may have just got back from their adventure a few hours ago."

"Time thing, your majesty?" Drinian said, confused.

"Narnian time and our time runs differently," Peter explained, as they turned a corner. "And please, there's no need to call me your majesty. I'm no king here, I assure you."

"Aye, but you'll always be our king, your majesty," Trumpkin said, with a smile. "Once a king in Narnia, and all that. Now then, about times. Where are Edmund and Lucy now?"

"Staying with our cousin Eustace," Peter explained.

"Eustace was there too," Drinian said. "On the _Dawn Treader_."

"You were stuck on a boat with Eustace?" Peter said, screwing up his face in disgust.

"I will admit, he was a trial when he first arrived," Drinian said. "But it pains me to say it, your majesty, because he proved himself as a worthy shipmate."

"Eustace? Sounds like he underwent some transformation."

"In a manner of speaking," Drinian said, with a small smile. "So it hasn't been a year in your time since King Edmund, Queen Lucy and their kinsman Eustace returned from our fine ship?"

"It could be a matter of days," Peter said. "Even hours. Or weeks."

All this was beginning to sound familiar to Drinian. Edmund and Lucy had explained it themselves, when they'd arrived on his ship.

"Do you mean to say," Drinian said, slowly, "that for every hour here, months pass in Narnia?" He turned to Trumpkin in shock. "What will this mean when we return?"

"That we must return as soon as possible," Trumpkin said, looking equally distressed. "By the Lion, why didn't we think of this before we left? The land could have been attacked in our absence ... Trufflehunter will have thought we were all killed by the Gateway."

"At least Caspian returned," Drinian said.

"But why hasn't he come back?" Trumpkin said. "He must have spent months of Narnian time by now. Perhaps the Gateway was damaged ..."

"What is this Gateway you speak of?" Digory asked.

"The device we used to get here," Trumpkin explained. "It was a gift from a passing traveller."

"How are we to get home?" Drinian said, staring at the odd building they were walking towards. There was a track running past them, in a sunken pit.

"Aslan said he'd make arrangements," the professor explained. "In the meanwhile, we'll catch a train to my home. I am honoured to have you as guests. I'll call Polly ... I have no doubt she'll be here in five minutes flat. Then we'll hear all your stories."

* * *

It was a long time before Caspian dared open his eyes again. There was a silvery light on the decaying wall now. The moon must have moved into the eastern sky. The light made him feel a little better, but it was short-lived. A shadow fell across the wall. The unmistakable shaggy shadow of a lion.

Caspian closed his eyes again, and covered his ears. He covered them because he could hear the soft footfalls, pacing among the distant trees.

_Caspian_ ...

He'd been calling him for the last hour. It was hard to say how he knew this, because he certainly couldn't hear his voice. Something in his soul stirred when he called him ... something that felt starved. Like feeling thirsty at the sound of a running stream, or hungry at the sound of a sizzling side of bacon. Yet he couldn't bring himself to move.

_Caspian ..._

He didn't sound angry. That was the worst part of it. If he was, at least he could feel like he had some excuse for not going. As it was, he was simply being cowardly and stubborn by refusing to answer his call.

_Caspian ..._

_Please_, Caspian thought. _Please, leave me._

_Why will you not speak with me?_

It was the first time he'd said anything other than his name, and it put Caspian momentarily off guard.

_I'm afraid_, he admitted.

_Of what?_

Caspian realized, with surprise, that he didn't know. He wasn't afraid of being mauled or clawed. By all rights, he'd deserve it if he was. He wasn't afraid of being verbally reprimanded - he deserved that even more. But all he knew was he'd rather attend a dozen of those awful childhood 'conversations' his uncle used to host, than go and face the Someone to whom he owed far more than his life.

Caspian covered his face further, wishing the ground would crack open and swallow him. How did one begin to apologize for causing a country to fall to ruin? Aslan had entrusted him with this land. His subjects had trusted him. Nothing he could ever do would wipe this away. Perhaps what he truly feared was that he'd ruined himself ... that he'd passed some threshold of evil that took him from being good, yet flawed, which he'd always been comfortable with, to a lost cause, fit only to live in guilt and shame for the rest of his days.

After a moment, Caspian realized Aslan had not said anything else. He could no longer hear him pacing, either. Frightened that perhaps he really had left him, Caspian suddenly sat up. Only trees and black walls surrounded him. In a moment, he was on his feet. He found the Lion a short distance away, out of view because of a clump of trees. He was lying with his back to Caspian, at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the ocean. The only movement was his tail, which was thumping up and down in an idle manner. One ear was swivelled in his direction, indicating Aslan was aware of his presence.

It felt more than a little silly to go back and hide now. Nor did he feel ready for this. He hovered uncertainly for a few minutes, and then walked over slowly. When he sat down beside the Lion, he made sure to keep a good distance between them. He'd expected it to be bitterly cold on the cliff edge, with nothing between himself and the sea, but it was surprisingly warm. He shuffled slightly closer to Aslan, and found it was warmer still.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the Lion, so he didn't know if he ever looked at him. They sat in silence for what felt like half an hour to Caspian, until he could stand it no longer.

"I'm sorry," he said. His eyes filled with tears, once again, despite his attempts to resist. "I am the worst king Narnia ever had."

"Son of Adam, that is far from the truth. As you well know."

He sounded as calm and friendly as if they were talking about the fine state of the weather, but it didn't make Caspian feel any better.

"I destroyed it," Caspian sniffed. "At least my uncle didn't leave it like this."

"Are you so sure?" Now he sounded almost like he was holding back laughter. "Take a closer look, young Caspian. For this _is_ your uncle's Narnia."

"You mean ..." Caspian felt very odd for a moment, and he turned to Aslan in surprise. "I'm in the past?"

"Before you were even born."

"But ... how could that be, Sir? The time differences ..."

"The makers of the Gateway attempted to compensate for them, to make travel between worlds more appealing. But it is far from accurate, as you can see. This is how that device ended up in your own time in the first place. It was made in a world far more advanced than even the one you visited today."

For the first time since arriving in this awful place, Caspian felt the urge to smile. He hadn't destroyed Narnia! But other concerns rushed into his mind ... Drinian and Trumpkin. Somewhere, his friends were still sitting in a prison cell.

"Will I ever be able to reach Drinian and Trumpkin again?" Caspian asked, desperately.

"Do not concern yourself with your friends. I have already arranged for their release. In the meanwhile, my son, you and I have other things to discuss."

Caspian's mood sunk at the words and he stared down at the beach below. Out of all the mistakes he'd made since the beginning of this whole sad incident, he wondered which one in particular Aslan wished to talk about. Perhaps the shameful lie he'd used to get his friends to accompany him. Or his misguided quest to use the Gateway in the first place.

"Tell me," the Lion continued, "what did you make of the world of Adam and Eve?"

"I ... I don't know," Caspian said. "Everything was very confusing. It was not at all how I expected." Images of the burnt buildings, reduced to rubble, filled his mind. "It didn't seem a very happy place."

"The part you saw was not," Aslan confirmed. "They are suffering under a terrible war."

"A war?" Caspian said, surprised. His thoughts turned instantly to his friends.

"Our friends who belong in that world are safe," the Lion said, clearly picking up on his concern. "It is not like the wars you know."

"I thought their world would be like a fairytale come to life," Caspian admitted. "After Eustace told me they lived on a round world, and all his stories about massive ships and flying machines. I never imagined they'd be things like wars, and people living in the streets." He paused to sigh. "It was wrong of me to go. I put my friends in danger and risked Narnia, all because ..." He trailed off into silence, staring at the dark, watery horizon.

"Because, Son of Adam?" Aslan prompted.

A dozen possible answers flashed through Caspian's mind. All of them sounded like pathetic excuses, unworthy of a king of Narnia. Finally, he said, "I ... I don't know, Sir."

There was only silence in response, which quickly became uncomfortable.

"Does it really matter?" Caspian asked.

Aslan turned his shaggy head and gave him a look that almost made Caspian jump up and run back to the forest. It took all his resolve to remain sitting.

"You wouldn't have asked if it didn't matter," Caspian mumbled, while nervously fidgeting with the grass.

"I wonder, Caspian," the Lion said, "if you will ever forgive me for sending you home at the eastern edge of the world."

"Forgive you?" The idea was shocking. "I ... I was not angry, Sir."

"I believe this is the first time you have spoken to me since."

Caspian couldn't deny it. He used to ask for Aslan's blessing every night when he was younger. Requests to guide him, to help him make good decisions, and to protect Narnia. Excuses rushed around his mind. He was distracted with Rilami, and there was the preoccupation of getting the _Dawn Treader _home, and he was just so tired at night sometimes.

"It would be wrong for me to feel anger towards you, Sir," Caspian said, looking aside. "After all you've done for me - and for Narnia."

"Nay, Caspian. It is only healthy between friends. Has Trumpkin not driven you to distraction on more than one occasion? Is your friendship the less because of it?"

"Well ... I'd have said it was the greater. But, Sir ... are you saying you want me to be angry?"

"Only that no good will ever come from a lack of honesty between us about your feelings."

Caspian considered it. He'd been keeping his thoughts about that particular event hidden from everyone. Even denied them to himself ... and that had resulted in his short temper, which had driven Rilami away. And his frustration had led him to so recklessly pursue the idea of visiting the other world, as he'd been so unwilling to admit earlier. Now, he had led himself and his friends into such a mess, it took Aslan Himself to bail him out.

It was clear what the Lion wanted from him, but Caspian could hardly bring himself to say it. He should be thanking him for showing such great compassion by being here at all - and remaining here after he'd initially refused to speak with him - instead of showing such arrogance as to express displeasure with his past decisions. He was half tempted to ask him if they could leave it until some other time, but he already knew the answer he would get. There was nothing for it.

"I was - I am - plagued with disappointment over not accompanying Reepicheep," Caspian said, eventually. Surprisingly, it felt good to admit it. Now that he had, the words came easily. "Yet I know it was the right thing to come home. But there's just a small part of me that can't stop ... wishing. I feel like I've climbed the highest mountain in the world, yet turned back a few feet before the summit. Or flown to the sky, and turned back before touching the moon. I had so many fantastic adventures on the voyage, it seems ungrateful to focus on that single thing. Yet it won't leave my mind." Caspian stared at the distant waves, remembering the taste of the sweet water. "My life here seems empty compared to the promise of that eastern horizon."

There was silence for a while, and Caspian gradually remembered where he was. It wasn't the first time, that memories of the Silver Sea threatened to overwhelm him.

Beside him, Aslan was standing up. "Ah, Son of Adam," he said. There was a hint of a roar in his voice, but the impression it gave was a tone of affectionate exasperation. "The land that lies beyond the eastern edge, is not somewhere you will reach in a boat."

Caspian also climbed to his feet, and Aslan turned to face him. They were on eye level now, and Caspian could hardly stand to remain the focus of the Lion's overwhelming gaze. The question he was desperate for an answer to was the only thing that kept him steady.

"You mean ... are you saying I will be allowed to go there?" Caspian said, hardly daring to believe it.

"Why did you ever convince yourself otherwise, my son?"

"I ... I thought ..." He'd thought many things. But now, as he felt the joy of this new realization surge through him - felt himself _believe_ it, everything he'd thought previously seemed so insignificant.

"You have not turned back from the summit," Aslan continued. "Your life _here_ is the journey towards it. The moon is not lost to you, even when you cover your eyes from its light. I never turned you away ... only gave you a push in the right direction. As I always will, even when you would rather I did not."

Purely on a joyous impulse, Caspian closed the remaining distance between himself and Aslan, and buried his head in his mane, embracing him as far as his arms could reach. Tears filled his eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy.

After a moment, he remembered just who he was hugging in such a familiar way. He started to step back, but Aslan returned the embrace with his left paw, and nuzzled him gently. Caspian fell back against his mane, feeling like he'd never truly known what a real hug was before.

"Does this mean you forgive me, Son of Adam?" Aslan asked, eventually.

Caspian gave a muffled laugh. "I was going to ask the same thing."

"You have no need to ask."

The words reminded Caspian of something.

"I haven't apologized for everything yet," he mumbled.

"Oh?"

The Lion allowed Caspian to step back.

"When my friends and I were debating whether or not to use the Gateway," Caspian said, looking down at the dewy grass, "I started arguing with Trufflehunter ... and I said something. Something that no one should ever say, never mind a king. Especially a king of Narnia." He paused for a moment, and then said, "It was about you. I regret it wholeheartedly, and no amount of apologies could possibly make up for it."

"You haven't told me what you said."

Caspian winced at the thought of actually having to repeat the words, but when he met Aslan's gaze, he saw the Lion was only playing with him. The relief he felt must have been visible in his face, because Aslan sounded amused when he spoke.

"Son of Adam," he said, "you may call me whatever you like. On the condition that you will destroy that troublesome Gateway. Believe me when I say you are not the first adventurous spirit I have had to rescue from the bygone eras of my many worlds."

"Agreed," Caspian said, with a grin. "I think I've had enough of other worlds. This one is more than good enough."

"Then there is no danger of you being tempted to stay behind and explore, when I send you to retrieve your friends?"

"None at all, Sir," Caspian insisted.

* * *


	10. Home Sweet Narnia

* * *

**Chapter 10: Home Sweet Narnia**

* * *

When Caspian woke up, the first thing he noticed was how refreshed he felt. The last two times he'd made this journey between worlds, he'd felt dizzy and disoriented upon waking. Even better - he felt content. Like there was nothing that could ever bother him again.

He stood up, noting he was on the doorstep of a small house. The Gateway sat beside him, although he didn't remember using it. Come to think of it, he didn't even remember how he came to be here. The last thing he remembered, Aslan had been telling him what to do once he arrived here, and he'd been feeling very sleepy, so he'd rested for a moment, and then ...

He rubbed his head, wondering what he was supposed to do now. There was a tidy garden in front of him, with a quiet looking street beyond. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and there was a gentle breeze in the air. It was hard to believe this was the same world he'd visited earlier.

The sound of voices reached his ears, and he picked up the Gateway and stepped closer to the door. People were laughing ... talking excitedly. Perhaps he should knock.

Within a minute, the door was opened by an aging man who had a look of great wisdom about him. He took in Caspian with a single glance, and then smiled widely.

"You must be his majesty, Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion," he said, clearly very proud of knowing all that.

"Uh ... yes," Caspian said, taken aback. Judging by the manner in which he'd been greeted previously in this country, he'd been expecting something more like 'what in the blazes do you want?'. If Aslan hadn't sent him here, he'd think he was in the wrong place. "How did you know?"

"Well you're certainly not from around here! Come on in, we've been expecting you." He turned back into the house, and called, "He's here!"

Caspian stepped over the threshold, looking around with interest. The hallway beyond was lined with bookcases, and there were interesting sculptures on small display tables. He also recognized the telephone device from the police station, resting beside a sculpture. He placed the Gateway beside it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," the man said, turning back to him. "Professor Digory Kirke."

"Digory," Caspian repeated, in surprise. "Not the same Lord Digory from the old stories ... who came into Narnia with the Lady -"

"Polly!" the professor said, as a lady of similar age entered the corridor from an adjoining room. "It's him, all right."

"Delighted," she said. "I was hoping you'd show up - the others have told us so much about you. Now, we must get you a drink."

Caspian gaped for a moment, and then quickly remembered his manners. He took her hand and kissed it.

"My lady," he said, "this is an indescribable honour."

"Oh, you charmer," she said, smiling and turning a little pink.

Caspian immediately wanted to start asking questions - about whether it was true they owned a flying horse, and such, but suddenly he was being clapped on the back, and having his hand shaken, and the High King Peter was asking him how he'd arrived here.

"Your majesty," Caspian said, wondering how many more surprises he could handle. "I never thought I'd see you again ... are your siblings ...?"

"I wish," Peter said, pulling him through a door. "Susan's in America - that's another country, over an ocean - and Edmund and Lucy are staying with our cousin Eustace in Cambridge. I've heard all about the great voyage you had together - I can't tell you how envious I am!"

Peter had led him into a sitting room, where there were more books and a study desk. Caspian felt a rush of relief when he saw Trumpkin, sitting in the depths of an armchair and sampling a plate full of cakes.

"Your majesty," he said, cheerfully. "Glad you could join us."

"I'm overjoyed to see you," Caspian said, grinning. "But where's -"

"Outside, to our favour," Trumpkin said. "He's more excited than Pattertwig when he's found a new source of nuts."

"He went racing off when he heard a rumble," Peter said, "saying something about seeing the flying machine. I suppose he meant an aeroplane."

"Aeroplanes!" Caspian said. "So that's what you call them. We saw one before. How do they stay up?"

"They really aren't that interesting," Peter said.

At that moment, Drinian returned, and it was clear he disagreed with Peter, judging by the grin on his face. It grew wider when he saw Caspian.

"Ah, praise the Lion," he said. "Caspian, you _must_ see this!"

"See what?" Caspian said, bemused. Trumpkin was right about Drinian's excitement, as his friend would normally never call him 'Caspian'. But a moment later, he too, was as starry eyed as Drinian.

His friend held up an ornament that was resting on a nearby desk. It was a hard bluish sphere, mounted on a wooden frame that allowed it to spin around. There were multi-coloured patches on the sphere, but there appeared to be no rhyme or reason to their placement.

"What is it?" Caspian asked.

"The world!" Drinian declared, spinning it around. "_This_ world!"

"It's round!" Caspian said, reaching out to stop it spinning. "It's really round!"

"Please, show us where we are again, your majesty," Drinian said to Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes like he thought they were more than a little mad, and then pointed to a small shape up the top. "Somewhere around there."

"They tell me this world is so large, this entire street would be too small to see on this map," Drinian said, setting the thing spinning again. "Will you look at all this ocean! It took thousands and thousands of sailors to chart it all. Oh, and I've been reading all about their famous navigators," Drinian said, gesturing to a pile of books on a nearby chair. "I haven't had a wink of sleep."

"I know," Trumpkin put in, sounding weary.

"I couldn't put this one down," Drinian said, picking up a book titled _The Illustrated Voyages of Captain Cook_.

Caspian looked through the rest of Drinian's reading pile, and found himself becoming more excited with every word. _A Guide to Sea Creatures, Great Ships of the World, Great Ocean Explorers, Pirates: The Facts Behind the Legends_.

"Are these ... real?" Caspian asked, opening the one about great ships. The pictures were unbelievably life-like.

"I just saw another machine with wings," Drinian said. "It flew through the sky like a ... like an albatross. They tell me it carries people between lands ... I don't think there is anything that is not real in this place."

"Yes, it's all glorious and wondrous and everything else," Trumpkin said. "But if it's all the same with you gentlemen, I think I'm ready to go home. I don't much like the idea of missing my birthday because too much time has passed in Narnia."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Caspian said. "It's all sorted. The Gateway will take us back to the exact moment when we left. Aslan arranged it."

"Ah, so you've finally spoken to Him, then," Drinian said, with a knowing grin.

"Yes," Caspian said, seriously. He then added, "I owe you both an apology."

Drinian merely clapped him on the back to let him know all was well, and then resumed playing with the spinning model of the world. Caspian glanced at Trumpkin, expecting a less amiable reaction, but even he was smiling.

"When we were sitting in that prison cell, I'd have said you jolly well do, your majesty," Trumpkin said. "But not now. We've had a wonderful time here, thanks to the High King, and Lord Digory and Lady Polly. I only wish Trufflehunter could be here."

"It was better that he wasn't," Peter said. "He wouldn't have ended up in a prison ... he'd have ended up in a circus, or worse, a laboratory."

"What's a circus?" Trumpkin asked, at the same time Caspian asked, "What's a laboratory?"

"Just the thought of you three, wandering around asking everyone you met if they knew Lucy or Edmund," Peter said, shaking his head with a grin. "You honestly thought someone would have heard of them, out of all the hundreds of thousands of people who live here?"

"We thought you'd be famous," Caspian explained. "Great explorers, with tales of your adventures told far and wide."

"We didn't tell anyone we'd been to Narnia," Peter said. "Who would believe us?"

Caspian shared a confused look with Drinian.

Peter was saved from explaining further by the return of Digory and Polly. Digory was carrying a tray with glasses and a bottle of some drink Caspian did not recognize.

"Now, you Narnians are most welcome to stay for lunch," he said. "No hurry to get back, is there?"

"None at all," Drinian said, immediately.

"Well," Caspian said, a little unsure. "What do you think, Trumpkin?"

"If Lord Drinian wants to stay a bit longer, I'll oblige," Trumpkin said. "But after the meal ..."

"I agree," Caspian said, looking at Drinian. "I wish we could stay here for hours and talk about everything, and those books offer many temptations -" He glanced back at the globe. "- but Narnia is our home, and we belong there."

Drinian nodded, but he didn't meet Caspian's gaze.

The meal was a pleasant and happy event, and Caspian enjoyed sharing stories of Narnia with Peter, who wanted to know everything that had happened since he'd last been there. Trumpkin and Polly had taken up an involved conversation about cake recipes. Drinian sat next to the professor at the other end of the table, and Caspian could not hear what they were discussing, but judging by his friend's expression, it was something about the ocean.

Afterwards, they helped with the clearing up, and said goodbye to Polly, who had a train to catch. Then Caspian and Trumpkin shook hands with the professor, and Peter gave them both hugs. Trumpkin reminded Caspian to collect his sword (they'd stored them in one of the bedrooms).

It wasn't until Caspian was picking up the Gateway, and setting it up in the sitting room, that he realized they hadn't seen Drinian since they'd finished eating.

"It isn't like him to wander off without saying anything," Caspian said, concerned. Drinian was usually the most responsible of his friends.

"He's been behaving oddly since he got hold of those stupid books," Trumpkin said. "Bewitched him, no doubt. They must hold some strange magic."

"There's no such thing as magic here," Peter explained. He pointed out the window. "Drinian is sitting on the back porch."

Caspian immediately went to talk to him, while Trumpkin said, "No magic? Really?"

"Well, that is debatable," the professor said, sitting down in an armchair. "Let me tell you about my uncle ..."

Caspian went through the back door, and found Drinian was sitting on a wooden bench, immersed once again in the volume about Captain Cook's voyages.

"Drinian," Caspian said, "we're all set to leave, my friend. Are you ready?"

He stood up, leaving the book on the bench.

"Actually, Sire, I've been thinking," he said, looking out over the small back garden. He clasped his hands behind his back. "I want to stay here."

"Is this a joke?" Caspian said, raising an eyebrow. He wouldn't put it past Drinian to tease him like this.

"Nay," he said, quietly.

"You're not serious," Caspian said, in disbelief. Drinian was always so ... reliable. "You don't belong here."

"I think I might," Drinian said, turning to face him. "Your majesty, they have ships here that can survive at sea for months ... they even have vessels that can travel in the depths of the ocean. They call them submarines. It's like something out of a dream."

"I'm sure there are many things we don't yet understand about this world," Caspian said. "It would be too dangerous to leave you here, with no means of returning."

"Sire, aren't you the least bit curious?" Drinian asked.

Caspian took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his focus. "No," he said, stoically. He'd told Aslan he wouldn't be tempted. Drinian gave him a look that was clearly disbelieving.

"Of course I am!" Caspian admitted. "But temptation is often just one's mind playing tricks ... making promises it will never deliver. Remember when the _Dawn Treader_ reached the eastern edge, and I wanted to go on?"

"Yes, and I've been meaning to apologize for the lack of understanding on my part," Drinian said.

"I was going to say that if I had gone, it would have been the most foolish decision I ever made," Caspian said. "I was lucky to have good friends like you, who would never have let me make it. And now, I extend to you the same loyalty. You're coming home with Trumpkin and I. Besides, what would I say to Trufflehunter if I left you behind?"

Drinian didn't say anything.

"Well, if your heart is really set on this," Caspian said. "I will have to stay as well. Trumpkin can go back alone."

"But Narnia needs you -"

"I know," Caspian said, "but I can't just abandon you while you make a mistake."

A distant look came into Drinian's eyes for a moment, as if he was remembering something. At that moment, Peter and the professor appeared in the doorway.

"Everything all right?" the professor said. "I don't mean to rush you, but Trumpkin is saying he'll use the device alone if you don't hurry up, and I think that dwarf means business."

Caspian smiled. "We're coming. Right, Drinian?"

"I suppose I must," Drinian said, sadly. "But I leave part of myself here."

"You don't want to stay, do you?" Peter enquired, as they walked back into the cottage. "Lord Drinian, having lived in both worlds for many years, I can tell you without hesitation that, given a choice, I would choose Narnia a hundred times over."

"Why don't you take these books back with you?" the professor said, handing them to Drinian. "I've no doubt you'll enjoy them far more often than me."

"Thank you, sir," Drinian said, cheering up slightly. "Everyone will think I've brought back books of childish fairytales."

"Especially when we say the world here was round," Caspian said, staring at the sphere again. He was half wishing the professor would offer them that, as well, but such maps were probably rare valuables in this world.

Trumpkin was already waiting next to the Gateway, twirling a large feather around in his fingertips.

"Trees and tornados! Are we leaving?" he asked, impatiently. He had an expression as if he knew what they'd been discussing outside, and didn't think much of it.

"Yes, Trumpkin," Caspian said, taking the feather. He activated the Gateway, and then, after some thought, handed the feather to Drinian.

"Perhaps you should do the honours."

Drinian studied it. "This is an albatross feather," he said, curiously.

"Is it?" Caspian said. "I don't know where it came from. Aslan left it with the Gateway and told me we could use it to return."

"Well," Drinian said, suddenly sounding more certain, "I must say my goodbyes. Thank you for your hospitality, professor. And your majesty," he said, bowing to Peter. "I never imagined I'd have the honor of meeting you."

"I hope this isn't the last time we'll meet," Caspian said.

"Oh, somehow I doubt it will be," the professor said.

With those hopeful words, they held on to each other, and Caspian braced himself for the sensation that was becoming familiar. Drinian held the feather into the green light, and it became much brighter. The professor, Peter and the room itself faded into white, and then there was a peaceful silence.

* * *

"Your majesty?"

"Hmmmm," Caspian mumbled, rolling over. His bed felt strangely hard.

"Caspian!"

This was followed by a paw on his chest, and a wet nose poking at his face. He quickly sat up, and found himself looking into the furry face of Trufflehunter.

"What happened, Sire? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Caspian said. "Never been better. How are you?"

"I think I better go and fetch Gilamaud," Trufflehunter said.

Caspian looked around, and found Drinian and Trumpkin were resting nearby. Everything suddenly came back.

"No, really, I'm fine," he said. "I'm so sorry about what happened. Forgive me?"

"I came back to apologize myself," Trufflehunter said, looking relieved. "I overreacted - I'm sorry."

They shared a warm hug, and then Caspian stood up.

"Help me wake the others - you won't _believe_ what happened to us."

"I thought the Gateway had killed you all for a moment," Trufflehunter said, shaking Trumpkin.

"No, it worked perfectly," Caspian said, rousing Drinian. "We went to the other world, and we saw King Peter, and Lord Digory and Lady Polly, and -"

"But I only left an hour ago," Trufflehunter said, confused.

"Just what I want to hear," Caspian said, grinning. "Would you mind standing back for a moment?"

Trufflehunter obliged, staring at him in bemusement. Caspian drew his sword, and brought it down on the Gateway. There was a momentary green flash, then the thing snapped in two and lay in pieces. The noise caused Drinian and Trumpkin to shake off the last of their drowsiness, and soon they were standing up beside him.

"Waterfalls and whales! You destroyed it?" Trumpkin said. "You destroyed the Gateway?"

Caspian shrugged. "It wasn't any use anymore, anyway. I no longer have Edmund's torch. At least, I don't think so," he said, thinking. The last he'd seen of it was when he was stuck in the past. Maybe it was buried underneath Cair Paravel somewhere. It hurt his head to think about it.

"I still have these books," Drinian said, pointing. "They're from the other world. We could have used them."

"I forgot," Caspian said, grinning at Drinian. His friend looked disappointed for a moment, and then shared his smile.

Over dinner that night, they told Trufflehunter the entire tale, and Caspian learnt what had transpired after he'd left the police station. He shared the story of how he'd ended up among the ruins of the ancient Cair Paravel, much to Drinian and Trumpkin's amazement.

"I'm glad we didn't all end up there," Trumpkin said. "Imagine having to fight Miraz for Narnia all over again. Once was enough, thanks all the same."

"And we'd have to put up with two of you, my lord," Caspian said.

"And two of you, your majesty," Trumpkin countered. "How would that work, eh? Two kings. They'd have ended up fighting each other, no doubt."

The debate over who would win such a fight, and whether Trufflehunter would side with an older or younger Caspian, took them to the end of dessert, by which time they were all growing tired. Drinian, especially, who had nearly fallen asleep between courses, due to his lack of rest during their adventure.

He retired early, leaving the rest of them to talk a while longer. When Caspian finally made his way to bed, he was surprised to find his ocean-loving friend on one of the east-facing balconies.

"I thought you'd be asleep," he said, joining him.

"Just needed a few lungfuls of the salty air," Drinian said.

"Glad to be home?" Caspian asked.

"Aye," Drinian said, "I honestly don't know what came over me. One story about some South Sea navigator, and I was like an over-excited sailor on his first voyage."

"If you don't mind me saying so," Caspian said, "I always knew there was an adventurer behind that steady and reliable exterior. You're simply better at hiding it than I am."

Drinian smiled. They listened to the waves for a moment, and Caspian breathed in the air, smelling the salty freshness that Drinian loved so much. His friend was twirling something between his fingers, and Caspian glanced over.

"Is that the feather we used to get home?"

"Aye," Drinian agreed. "Sire, do you mind if I keep it?"

"Of course, friend," Caspian said. "It will make a nice addition to your room décor, with all those shells, rocks, maps and model ships." He grinned at Drinian. "Goodnight, shipmate."

"Goodnight, Sire."

Just before Caspian reached the exit to the balcony, something occurred to him, and he turned back to Drinian.

"Drinian, I know it's been a long day ... but do you ever feel like taking the Dawn Treader for another voyage?"

"We'll start planning it first thing tomorrow," his friend replied, without a moment of hesitation.

* * *

_The End_

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks all for reading and big thanks for those who reviewed.


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